


Did I make the Most of Loving You?

by MaeveOfKobol



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Battlestar Galactica - All Media Types
Genre: All this has happened before, All this will happen again, Canon Compliant, F/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, The Twelve Colonies Of Kobol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2020-06-23 15:16:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 63
Words: 269,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19704028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaeveOfKobol/pseuds/MaeveOfKobol
Summary: All this has happened before, and all this will happen again. The cycle of time repeats, giving Laura and Bill a second chance. They are willing to fight for a better future, while clinging to the love they share. A/R but everyone has a role to play as they try to change their fates. Chapters 1-35 Life on the Colonies. Chapter 36 -> Decommissioning ceremony and onward.





	1. So Much Life

It was good. This planet promised their people a chance at life. Its waving fields of grass, clear skies, and blazing sun embraced the weary travelers down from the heavens. The sun reached for Laura but couldn't warm her pale skin. The animals running across the fields were just a fuzzy haze to her eyes as she and Bill flew above them in a raptor. She was fading fast.

"So much… life," she whispered, the faintest smile on her lips. Earth would be a paradise and new beginning for her people but not for her. The Dying Leader had done her job, and there was peace in that.

"It's a rich continent. More wildlife than all the Twelve Colonies combined," Bill said, piloting the raptor into a tilt so that she could take in as much of the world as possible before the end. He couldn't ignore the unavoidable end now; there was a death rattle in her lungs with every breath she took. The raptor engines muffled that sound as they soared above the treetops, looking at their prize that had cost so much. She tried not to dwell on how much she wanted to live down on that planet, now that she had someone to share her life with. It wasn't meant to be and Laura wouldn't waste what she knew were her last precious moments with the man she'd come to love more than anything. Not when she knew the end had come. The pain was fading, and she struggled to take another breath. She pictured a cabin nestled in the mountains where two people would have lived. Her heart faltered knowing it would have been home because they'd have been together. The remaining strength left her body, and her hand fell to her side.

"Just looking for a quiet little place to build that cabin," Bill said, and the low rumble of his voice seemed to wrap around her. She'd always loved his voice, but it sounded distant. Then there was silence. Goodbye my love. She couldn't say it.

Laura Roslin died with one final thought: I'll be waiting for you, Bill.

…

Bill Adama didn't fight the stinging tears when he snatched up Laura's limp hand and searched but did not find a pulse. He allowed his tears to flow down his cheeks and splash onto her hand he grasped in his. Laura Roslin deserved to be mourned by the man who'd loved her more than anything. She was gone and he wouldn't deny his grief at losing such a vital part of himself. He already missed her. Holding her cold hand, he felt more physical pain than he'd ever experienced in life. His chest felt as if it had been ripped open. He gasped out short breaths.

She looked peaceful, he thought. She'd held on as long as she could for his sake, despite the pain. In return, Bill didn't give into bitterness or told her that he couldn't live without her. She'd known. Instead, his great act of love was to let her go and make her passing peaceful. His pained heart raged like a storm at the impossible dream of a real lifetime together. Had they once dreamed of walking hand-in-hand on Earth under the trees as he worked on their cabin? He slammed his mind closed on the heart-wrenchingly impossible vision of what a life might have been like if they'd only met sooner. For a brief moment, he saw a warm home and children with Laura's eyes. He wept. His body trembled with the weight of grief.

It suddenly hit him, like the force of a thousand explosions: he never said 'I love you.' The woman he considered the love of his life never heard him say the words. Realizing that felt like pouring salt on an open wound. They'd simply never been together as fully as they should have been.

One Colonial belief was that those married before the gods would be together for all the eternities. Laura had made him believe in things he couldn't understand or control, and he'd come to have faith in her. Without hesitation, he pulled the wedding band off his hand and slipped it on her finger. He prayed his first and last prayer, begging the gods he didn't know if he believed in to be reunited with Laura one day. He bent down and pressed a kiss to her hand. With infinite tenderness, he set her hand back on her lap and looked at Laura's peaceful face. We'd have been happy spending a lifetime together, he knew with certainty.

He dug a grave. Every time he drove his shovel into the dirt, his heart hammered harder in his chest. He had to pause and catch his breath often. It was well into the night by the time he'd finished digging. The body was placed gently in the grave. He carefully folded her hands, her left hand with the gold band shining on top. I'll find you, he swore. If there is something else, I'll find you.

…

Everybody knows that everybody dies. The universe follows her rules, and time stays its course. Laura Roslin chose to face death with bravery and grace. The knowledge that her life would be cut short had forced her to finally live, accepting the weight of humanity but being gifted with the love of a good man. And yet after slipping into a terrible and beautiful darkness, Laura bolted upright, gasping for air.

Her breaths came in sharp pants as her mind tried to grasp where she was, but she didn't understand what was going on. Shivering when cool air nipped at her skin, she looked everywhere around her. Her eyes wandered faster and faster until her head spun. Trepidation swelled through her as she took in the white walls, blue curtains, leather chair, and a discarded pair of heels. It all looked so clean, and felt so wrong.

Looking down, she realized she'd been asleep in an unfamiliar bed. That thought alone sent her heart pounding in her chest, along with the horrible nagging sense that she wasn't supposed to be here. She expected to find herself on a boat carrying her to the Shore, to Elysium, to her final rest. There, she'd finally be reunited with her family, with the sisters she'd never stopped missing and her parents whom she'd loved. Most of all, she'd comforted herself in the knowledge that she'd wait for Bill to join her one day, never to be parted again. This too clean and very lonely room wasn't what she'd been promised. She felt robbed.

Her senses soaked in everything around her. Without thinking, Laura ran a hand through her hair and gasped. She clutched at long red curls, tangled with sleep, but very real. She began to notice the lack of pain anywhere in her body, as if the agony she'd lived with had melted away leaving her body equal parts foreign and familiar. In this body, her heartbeat was strong and steady. Her lungs expanded with air freely without feeling like a knife was being plunged into her. She felt good. Her hands moved down from her hair, across the soft skin of her neck, further down her body, and carefully pressed and prodded her tender flesh. No tumor. Wrenching her shaking hands away from her body, she looked around the room again confirming that she was very much alone. Still, she had to try.

"Bill!" she called out, praying to the Lords of Kobol that somehow, he would answer. "Bill!" she yelled out again, her voice thick with tears. Pushing herself out of the bed, she stumbled through the room, searching for anyone. She collapsed against a wall when it became clear she was very much alone and very overwhelmed.

Keep calm and figure out the facts, she mentally kicked herself and forced her breathing back under control. Pushing off the wall, she walked through the room. Her senses were firing, barraging her with information. There was a trace of fresh linen and lemon, and it smelled crisp; clean, but the nice kind of clean that didn't mean sterile, but fresh. She felt too used to stale and sterile smells. Her fingers traced the designs of carved wood furniture, too solid and detailed to be illusions. What she had expected and she was seeing were warring in her mind, trying to rationalize this strange and unwelcome experience. Laura stopped when her hand trailed over the face of a journal, one she hadn't used in years but unforgotten. She fiddled with the worn red bookmark ribbon that stuck out before slipping her fingers between the pages. Opening the book, she read the scrawled ink, which marked a date from sixteen years before the Fall. She snatched her hand away as if it had been burnt and read the date again. The last entry, written in fresh looking ink, was sixteen years before the Fall.

None of this made sense, but it was her writing there. The familiar loops and slants that formed her messy cursive were sprawled out on the page, rambling on about being on Picon and detailing a day long past. It sparked something in the back of her mind, a distant memory not quite forgotten, and she looked around at the room once again. She remembered this hotel room. She slipped over to the window and shoved the fabric of the curtains to the side.

Picon before the Fall.

The sight of the planet overwhelmed her, and she felt light-headed for a few seconds. The sun broke over the horizon, and blazing light spilled into the room. People jogged along the boardwalk. Birds cawed and soared above the sprawling sands. Bright cobalt sky stretched out above her, so different from the inky black of space. It was stunning.

A warmth rose in the back of her eyes. This couldn't be the afterlife. Laura felt certain of that. It felt too much like the Twelve Colonies she remembered. The sting of tears transformed into a white hot rage coursed through her as she sank down onto the bed she'd awoken in. Is my life some sort of plaything for the gods? She demanded as she recoiled against everything that was happening. She'd done her job; she didn't want any more riddles. Her heart longed for her family and for Bill.

"All this has happened before, and all this will happen again," she whispered, the line summoned from the Sacred Scrolls, the only answer her mind seemed willing to supply. Surrounded by the unexplainable and puzzled by the impossible, something in Laura warned her that those sacred words were true. "Frak that," she growled.

She brought her knees up to her chest to curl into a ball. Tears finally spilled freely from her eyes, and she moved to brush them away, but her arm bumped into something in her bed. Frowning, she searched under the covers and pulled out a book. A choked sob tore from her throat. Searider Falcon. Their book. It even had the same burn marks from where it had been damaged.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she hugged the book to her. It was a small shred of proof. She might suddenly be in a time that looked and felt like the years before the Fall, but she'd lived a life beyond that. She knew it. She let her mind relax and made a promise to herself to keep going and to find him again.

"Yes! Absolutely! That is the only sane thing to do here—exactly that, run. We leave this solar system and never look back... I can dance... I will exercise the authority of this office until I am unable to do so, so if you want to stage a coup, you're gonna have to come over here and arrest me... You know, sometimes I think that you've got ice water in those veins, and other times I think you're just a naïve little school-teacher... I'll be back in a few days and perhaps we can maybe talk more about that night... We're not a civilization anymore, we are a gang, and we're on the run, and we have to fight to survive... I gave the access codes to the Cylons... It's perfect. We traded one nuked civilization for another... You didn't think you were gonna take off without me Admiral, did you?... Earth is a dream. One we've been chasing for a long time. We've earned it. This is Earth…"

"So much… life..."

As the memories ebbed and flowed away, she noticed something as her fingers moved across the cover of the book. She looked down at a large and worn gold band on her finger. She'd never worn a gold band. The only time she'd ever seen one adorn her finger was in her visions with Elosha on the Basestar; Bill had placed his own wedding band on her hand when she died. Her heart knew that Bill had placed this band on her finger.

"I love you," she'd told him. He'd been the only man she'd ever really loved.

She buried her face in the pillow, clutching the book to her. The raw emotion pulsed through her even as questions began to rise to the surface of her mind. Where was he at this time? Could she change the future? Would the attacks still happen?

Everything felt real. Real enough to accept. Real enough that it felt like she had never left. This was Picon before the Fall. She was standing on one of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol. She was living in the past. This was her memory, but it was also reality. Somehow, she wasn't dead. She repeated these facts in her head like a mantra. But what could she do?

The entire Cylon holocaust wasn't high on her 'live through it again' list. But if she had a chance to save people like Billy, then she was going to take it. If she had the opportunity to find Bill, she'd grab it.

…

She had been gone for an hour, a day, or longer. It didn't seem to matter. Time stretched and yet didn't seem to pass at all. The sun set, sending long shadows across the shifting grass. Bill fell asleep, Laura now long dead, and when he awoke he found himself standing on a ship he hadn't seen in over forty years. It wasn't real, Bill could tell. It was an in-between space between dreams and reality.

Bill Adama's eyes examined the hard metal surfaces. He suppressed a shudder when he saw the examination tables where Cylons had experimented on humans. This was the ship that had created the first Hybrid, and where he completed his last mission at the end of the First Cylon War. He remembered the otherworldly voice reverberating around the room.

All this has happened before, and all this will happen again.

He edged forward toward the basin in the center of the room. Once it had contained the Cylons' first Hybrid. The humidity was oppressive, and sweat gathered along his brow. Instinctively, his hand moved toward his hip and he grabbed the gun from its holster. The sidearm felt cool and familiar in his grasp.

He stood over the basin, holding his gun tighter when he saw the hybrid still there. He'd been long gone by the time Adama had arrived during his mission at the end of the First Cylon War. The Hybrid opened his eyes and looked up at Adama with a curious expression.

"You've returned, William Adama," he said. Bill didn't jump; he was too well-trained to allow a display of emotion in front of an enemy. He quickly brought his sidearm up and took aim. Keep the tactical advantage, his training told him.

"Is this a dream?" Bill asked.

"Yes." The Hybrid's piercing gaze bore into Adama's frosty blue eyes. "And, no," he said, chuckling softly at his riddle. He tilted his head to the side. "Do you remember what I told you the last time you were here?"

"You weren't here," Bill pointed out. The Hybrid chuckled again and continued speaking to Adama as a grandfather might speak to his child.

"I still spoke to you, and you heard me," the Hybrid explained. "All of this has happened before…"

"…and all of this will happen again," Bill finished, remembering.

"And so it must happen again. I've seen the jealous god rolling back the wheel of time. Just as I saw the Prophet guide her people to Earth."

"Don't you dare talk about her," Bill snarled, gripping his gun tighter while his heart thundered in his chest.

"Did you make the most of loving her?" The Hybrid challenged. Adama felt his heart constrict in his chest when he thought about the question.

"No," he admitted softly.

"There are always things left unsaid and undone," the Hybrid rasped. "Even so, in your time humanity earned their survival, and that must be honored. Laura, the Prophet who never lost her soul, proved their worth."

"I'm not interested in riddles," Bill snapped. He turned to walk away.

"Then I shall speak plainly for you, my child. In the end the Twelve Colonies of Kobol were still lost. Your culture was abandoned. Your names were forgotten and your story was lost. History laid no blame at your feet but learned no lesson. On Earth, Colonial and Cylon alike died. Starvation, exposure, disease…"

"That's enough!" Rage coursed through his veins. He couldn't even contemplate the potential that they'd failed in the end. A split-second decision later and he found himself pulling the trigger. Nothing happened.

"If you think this is a dream, what makes you think you can kill me?" The old man's voice didn't contain any anger at the attempt against his life. His voice was calm and gentle, perhaps even a little amused.

"If this is a dream then leave me alone."

"It's a dream, a memory, and a warning," the Hybrid spoke. "This has all happened before, and now… now it must happen again. You must go back."

"I'm not interested in any of this." Bill shook his head. "And, I'm not interested in reliving the past." Even as he said it, he wondered if that was the truth. Laura.

"What if you saw her again?" The Hybrid locked gazes with Adama again. Bill opened his mouth to snap out a response, but the words didn't come. The pain in his chest from his aching heart consumed him. He'd give anything to see her again.

"The jealous god will rewind time. But you have another chance. It was earned." The Hybrid closed his eyes, and the room began to fade around them. "Remember and learn because this will be the end of the line."

…

His eyes snapped open. Heart pounded against his chest, and it felt like someone had shot him with adrenaline as he tried to breathe steadily. The Hybrid's words continued to ring in his ears as he looked around. The walls were the unmistakable metal of a Battleship. The space he was in was small, and a narrow mattress laid under him—a bunk. He ran his hands over the blankets, it felt solid and real.

His narrowed eyes took in his surroundings with military precision. There were books on the shelf above his head, pictures in frames, and some papers. He carefully picked up a framed photo; he'd always kept this one with him on his different duty assignments. Zak and Lee were smiling into the camera as a toddler and young boy. It was one of the last pictures taken before everything had irrevocably broken down in his marriage to Carolanne. That led him to his next picture: his wedding photo. A lump formed in his throat as his thoughts turned to a different woman than the one in the photo. Constant heartache had rung him out until he was dry and no more tears could come. He felt raw, the anguish fraying his nerves and making it hard to process what was going on. He replaced the frames on his shelf, turning the one of Carolanne upside down.

Taking a deep breath, he swung his legs out of the bunk and stood up. His gaze swept through the darkened room, and he noticed the figures sleeping in their own bunks. His eyes widened in recognition. He knew these people; Lt. Reed, Lt. Oliver, Lt. Grayson… he paused. He didn't remember the rest of their names.

All of this will happen again, the Hybrid had told him. The familiar surroundings spoke to the truth of such a statement, and he braced himself against a wall and remembered. This was where he used to live; the typical officer's quarters on a Battlestar. But he should be on Earth. He felt pain in his heart but noticed his muscles didn't ache from age or how he'd buried her. That act had taken every bit of strength he had.

Now he was living in a memory from long ago. His mind drifted back and fixated on the words of the Hybrid. What if you saw her again? He'd give anything to see Laura Roslin again.

His heart felt like someone had ripped it right out of his chest. He remembered dirt covering her face as he buried her. His body trembled with the effort it took not to break down right there, but William Adama was a soldier. He fell back on his training. It told him what to do: stay alive, gather intel, strategize, and strike. He moved over to his locker, the sight distantly familiar to him. He opened it.

His uniform was there. The patch on it told him he was stationed on the Battlestar Universal. The rank insignia informed him he was a major. This was sixteen years ago.

...

Sixteen years before the Fall of the Colonies, somewhere in deep space, a Cylon burst through the surface of the ooze his body was encased in. He sucked down a gulp of air and looked around. Familiar faces surrounded him, and he scrutinized each one. But when he closed his eyes, he saw destruction and blood. He remembered his centurions falling before him, and the Final Five standing with humanity. They'd thought they'd won, but as John Cavil looked around, laughter burst from his chest. He'd always had this little ace up his sleeve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I just got around to watching Battlestar Galactica. Yep, I'm late to the party. It's going to be a long work, but I'm also using it to practice my creative writing. It has been years since I've done any creative writing, and this is my first fanfic. I'm very excited about the story but warn that it will be long. Give me a few chapters to dust off my very rusty skills, and i promise to try and give you a good story.


	2. Days Passed

Laura skipped the education conference that had brought her to Picon sixteen years before the Fall. Memories from a lifetime ago were happening again, and she was too busy trying to wrap her mind around it without trying to manage anything else. She was in no state to leave her room, jumping at each sound that came too close to her door and finding herself staring at mundane things that had either been lost or luxuries after the Cylon attacks. Using soap that smelled good, like sandalwood and vanilla, seemed decadent. A box of tissues was supposed to help fix tears, not cause them. These were the creature comforts of humanity that she'd learned they really didn't need, but they were a hallmark of life on the Colonies, at least for a Caprican politician.

Her day was spent drinking in the realness of the world. On the balcony of her hotel room, she stretched out her senses to soak it all in. The sun warmed her skin, and she stayed out long enough that her cheeks started turning a rosy color and her exposed shoulders stung. Retreating inside, she flipped the TV on, researching and gathering data about this world, letting this reality sink in further. Reporters rambled on about the problems on Sagittaron and the drought on Aerilon.

Laura wondered if there were any others like her. She guessed it was too much to hope that there was anyone else as confused as she was, looking out into the world right now hoping there was someone else who remembered the future. This was too much weight for one person to carry, but no one she saw—nothing on TV or in the papers—even hinted at a fear of the Cylons. The average citizens of the world seemed to spare no thought for the end of the worlds.

Her thoughts drifted to those who'd survived the apocalypse, wondering if some of them could remember. She supposed it was possible that something happened during their journey to allow them this strange occurrence. They'd seen their share of strange things, after all. She shook her head, knowing she was grasping at straws. People like Billy and Lee were just children at this point in time. And there was nothing to give her hope that someone like Bill...

She jumped when the phone in her room rang, and her gaze snapped over to it. The noise continued, sending a shiver down her spine and Laura felt her blood chill in her veins. In a trance, she made her way over to the phone, knowing who was on the other end. Knowing the future felt eerie and unwelcome. Laura reminded herself of all she'd been through, and she would find the strength to handle this as well, even if she had to curb her immense fury at being put through a new trial.

"Roslin," she answered, snatching up the phone and holding her breath. Her clipped greeting, what she'd used to answer the phone as President, had the other person chuckling at her curtness.

"Well, hello Laura. I was sitting here missing my favorite director. A director who seems to feel pretty feisty at the moment. I think I like it," the caller said, putting what he must have thought was a seductive purr in his tone. This was a man who got what he wanted with honeyed words and smooth talking.

"Hello Richard," she replied, listening to a voice come back from the grave. Despite knowing who would be on the other end of the call, it didn't stop the conflicting emotions from warring within her. One side basked in relief at hearing someone she'd once cared about alive again while the other side descended into the bitterness and anger she harbored toward the man for countless reasons. The two sides fought, and she couldn't think of what to say to him.

"Well, Ms. Roslin, your conference should be over and vacation starting. I keep thinking of you alone on Picon, and it seems such a waste when I'd love to come keep you company," he offered, charisma and charm lacing through his words.

Laura took a calming breath. "No, Richard. I'm not up to company."

"It's just me. We could use the time to relax. I could order us some wine, have it sent up to your room, touch you the way I know you need to be touched."

She nearly snorted, remembering how direct he'd always been, taking what he wanted. She shook her head. Here was her confirmation that life was unfolding as she remembered. Richard had joined her on this vacation, and they'd started their torrid affair.

"I don't think so," she rejected him with ease. She knew what real love felt like and she would never accept anything less. She would never accept anyone else.

"Come on, Laura. I want to see you, and you want to see me," he said. Laura tried to remember a time when such pressure could cause her to cave. She'd become battle-hardened now, steel forged in fire.

"I'm not feeling well, and I'd like to be alone." Laura said, more harshly than she intended. She sighed. "I'll see you when I get back." Maybe this is hell? She thought to herself, and for a moment her mind contemplated that thought. Not hell, she decided, that didn't feel right.

"You really aren't feeling well," Richard conceded.

"Sorry."

"It's okay, honey. We'll find some other time, Laura. Feel better," he said. He sounded sincere, and she vaguely remembered how caring and attentive he'd once been. It didn't matter, she thought, shaking her head and hanging up the telephone. She'd never repeat the poor excuse of a relationship she had with Richard.

She wanted Bill, and she felt a terrible heartache at the very real possibility that he might not remember her. His memories of what they'd shared could be gone. Her Bill, the man who looked at her with infinite love and endless devotion, could be lost to her. She tried to remember what he was like when they first met, the stern and unyielding leader. Full of military pride, he'd been a stubborn commander at odds with the educator-turned-president. But together they'd fought each other and the Cylons, building along the way a connection so strong that it could withstand anything. It was one hell of a way to build a relationship and not something she could just walk up to him and hope to do over. What were they without that shared history?

The fact remained that if he didn't remember, it could never be as it once was. Knowing that their experiences had shaped the people they'd become and the relationship they'd forged, she still reached for her personal phone. She loved him. Every part of her screamed to find him, every second she ached for him. She opened the contacts. The fear that finding Bill in this timeline would lead to him looking at her with not even a shred of the warmth he should needed to be suppressed. She'd regret not trying. She listened to her phone connecting her with an old college friend that now worked in the defense ministry. After greeting her warmly and exchanging pleasantries, they switched to business.

"So, whatcha need, Red?" her friend asked.

"I'm trying to find someone in the Colonial Fleet. His name is William Adama." Laura told her friend to pass on her name and just needs to have my name and my number." If he remembered her at all, that would be all the information he needed.

…

Bill was reeling in the same emotions as Laura. Around him, it was business as usual as if there was nothing horribly wrong with the universe. The men and women woke up in the officer's quarters and hopped out of their bunks, starting another average day in the Colonial Fleet. Officers trudged back from the shower, grunting greetings to their fellow pilots. Bill went with the flow even though normalcy felt so wrong. He sat on the edge of his bunk, finger combing hair into a semblance of order while some pilots wished him good morning. He remembered being liked well enough as CAG, but he kept the stoic Admiral's persona wrapped tightly around him like armor.

His calm control didn't prevent him from nearly jumping out of his skin when Saul Tigh's face appeared dangling from the bunk above his. Bill's gaze darted between Saul's two good eyes, which brimmed with excitement. He babbled on about shore leave while Bill was still focused on the existence of two eyes. Normal was now alien.

Saul noted his friend's dismal mood. "Leave. Today. Remember?" he demanded. "We got a hot date with cheap whiskey at this little strip club I know," Saul chuckled, delighted at his own idea. When Bill didn't reply, Saul swung out of his bunk and landed on the floor to peer closely at him. "You look like someone chewed you up and shat you out. Frak's wrong with you? C'mon! You're divorced. You're free. You promised to relax this shore leave," he said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. Bill tried to smile and nod, acting like nothing was wrong. It was hard when even Saul seemed unaffected by any memories of the future.

"Mail call," a young private said from the hatch, and several officers perked up. There was nothing for him, not that he expected anything. Carolanne and the boys had stopped writing to him years ago, not that hearing from Carolanne was high on his list of things he wanted. He wanted Laura, but he did suddenly have an idea.

"Meet you on the hangar deck," he said to Saul who'd just been handed a letter from Ellen that he glowered at. Bill decided against asking why his friend looked like he'd swallowed a bushel of lemons and made his way to a communication station instead. He grabbed a phone and dialed a familiar number.

"Hello?" a young voice answered, and Bill's heart skipped a beat.

"Zak," Bill breathed. "Zak… this is dad. How... how are you son?"

…

Laura had woken up the past several days feeling strong, healthy, well-rested, clear-headed, and broadsided by the intensity of her yearning to be with Bill. No call came through and she was left feeling sad and alone on a strangely abnormally normal Picon.

Laura sat in a coffee shop trying to write down everything that she remembered. She purchased a new journal specifically for this task. She nearly had an anxiety attack when she left her room and journeyed into public. Even something simple like going into a shop had become unfamiliar; there were so many people and choices, and there was nothing threatening to unceremoniously end her life. Living before the Fall would require some adjustment, and Laura was doing her best to acclimate.

The flavor of her tea exploded across her tongue, and she sighed in pleasure at the lack of an algae aftertaste. There was just cinnamon, masala, and clove. Laura swore right there that not allowing their food supply to get contaminated was a priority, and it didn't matter how much the Adama men enjoyed the algae noodles.

Her pen ran across the page, cataloguing everything about the future she could remember. This was how she'd spend her vacation on Picon, and it felt therapeutic to get to see it all on paper and have a record. Memories fade, she knew that, and there were details about their early journey that seemed fuzzy and unclear.

Her first term seemed like a fairytale with great ships, heroic soldiers, and fair leaders: a mythical time when humanity still had their spark of hope, before they were tested by New Caprica, Nuclear Earth, and righteous mutinies. Flipping the page, she wrote about the last months of their travels, about when they were all tired, bitter, and angry. Humanity's hope was a dying ember and their unending journey a constant cold wind. There was always something crushing them with a new pain, draining them of life like the cancer that sapped her life away.

She knew, somehow, that the attacks would still happen no matter what. Some instinct in her warned that she'd end up as a leader again, even if she didn't want to be one. Having been caught up in visions and prophecies, she took that instinct seriously. She noted the most important turning points: the defining moments that ripped their energy away and the wrong choices they'd made. If the Lords of Kobol wanted to play games with her, then Laura Roslin had her own conditions for this new round. Things would be better, and she committed her memories to paper along with her ideas. There were notes on living conditions, food supplies, and security.

She had to pause every so often. There were too many memories intertwined with Bill Adama. All the tears her heart wanted to release couldn't be suppressed. They shouldn't be suppressed. She wouldn't build a wall of brick around her heart to protect it from suffering and sorrow, having done that once and seeing it bring out the worst instincts in her. She let the grief of separation come in waves, sometimes stabbing through her, sometimes just a dull throb.

She reached for her tea again, after discreetly wiping a tear away. She was thankful for the time to get reacquainted with her old world. She had always been a meticulous person, organized and efficient. Between her journal and day planner, she'd pieced together where she was in her life.

...

Bill woke up in his hotel room with a splitting headache. The sun blazed into his room, letting him know that the day was well underway. His plan of 'go with the flow' turned out to be an unsound tactical decision, and he groaned at the pain in his head.

It was all because of Saul frakkin Tigh.

Saul. Mother. Frakking. Tigh. Saul remained oblivious to Bill's disquietude and only cared about the crazy time the two buddies were going to have. If Bill had any lingering doubts, they'd been settled, and he was certain that his friend had no memories of the future. This Saul Tigh was most definitely the Saul Tigh of years ago who didn't realize he was a Cylon 2,000 years old and still had some growing up to do.

Drinking with his best friend had been surreal. Saul, with no memories of the future weighing him down, was ready to pound back shot after shot of whiskey like it was water. He threatened to become a rowdy patron when the grumpy Cylon started bemoaning whatever Ellen had written him in her letter, but at a glare from Bill continued to toe the line. Bill drank in silence, knowing the answer didn't lie in the bottom of the next glass but wanting a break from the memories. Confusion and pain dominated his existence and the drinks only dulled the storm. The agony remained, and the grief of Laura's death tugged at his heart through the night. Nothing stopped the images his mind conjured up from memory, and he was plagued with seeing Laura in sickbay with tubes coming from her arms one moment and her face being covered by dirt the next.

At one point, Saul Tigh had slapped Bill on the back in congratulations and asked the quiet man where he'd thrown the damn ring. That's when Bill looked down and noticed the lack of a gold band on his finger. Saul was convinced his friend had hurled it deep into the oceans of Picon and had ordered another round of drinks in celebration. Bill hadn't been able to respond due to choking back the lump in his throat as he remembered placing the band on Laura's finger.

He shook his head and decided he wouldn't be repeating last night's drinking. It only turned the pain of Laura's death into a different kind of pain. He knew she wouldn't have wanted this for him. He thought of his lost love again. If Saul didn't remember, how could he hope that the Laura of this time might. He was the only one who seemed to remember the future, and without the memories that made her the person she was, Bill knew that his Laura was gone. What he'd forged with Laura had been built over time and in the fire of extenuating circumstances. It had been unique and irreplaceable, but, by the gods, he was thinking of finding her anyway.

Bill scoffed—the Laura of this time probably wouldn't look twice at an insignificant member of the Colonial Fleet. At this time, she was a refined Caprican politician with very little love lost for the Colonial military. Why would someone like Laura Roslin want a relationship with the divorced, scarred man who couldn't possibly have much to offer her. He tried to picture the Laura of this time rejecting him, and he didn't think he could stand the rejection of the one woman who'd meant the world to him. On the other hand, could he live with not taking the chance? He'd never be free of her, and, truthfully, he didn't want to be.

Chiding himself for being a coward, he decided to do something, knowing Laura was too important to him for him not to take a chance. He racked his brain, thinking of snippets of conversations they'd had, and made a decision. After a long series of calls and connections, he was put on the phone with an aide who served Caprica City's Director of Education. The Director wasn't in her office, but the young girl dutifully took his message and contact details.

In the back of his mind he knew that his knowledge of the future would change how this timeline unfolded. He'd read some books that featured a hint of time travel. Those books made him realize that mysteries were a superior genre. Out of the ashes can spring a new flame, and he thought of the ways he could change things.

Days passed and he didn't hear from Laura. His only solace came from calling up his young sons and listening to Zak talk about Pyramid and school. His boys, uncertain about the change in their father, loved this newfound attention. Bill knew one change he'd make in the timeline was never letting Zak near a viper and never telling Lee that a man isn't a man until he wears the wings of a viper pilot. He'd like to think he would learn and grow from his mistakes.

...

Laura ordered her final tea. Her hands were cramping from the writing she'd done, and she'd been inside long enough. The coffee shop was starting to draw a larger crowd than she wanted to be around. Besides, she wanted to be back outside to enjoy sunlight, smell the ocean, and feel the grass. She closed her journal, and carefully placed it alongside Searider Falcon in her bag before leaving. There was a nearby park. She'd go there.

...

Bill hung up the phone after talking with his boys again. He still hadn't heard from Laura, and his hope that she remembered had disintegrated into dust. Seeing the Colonies restored still needed time to fully sink in. He left his hotel room, wanting to see the sea and smell the breeze.

As he walked, he noticed a little coffee shop around the corner. Much to his irritation the place was more crowded than he wanted to deal with. So, he ordered an espresso that he quickly downed before leaving to find somewhere less occupied to be.

...

Laura Roslin had found a quiet bench to sit on. Trees protected her skin from the blazing Picon sun, but she was close enough to hear the waves distantly. She could almost taste the salt on the air. She let her senses take in the world around her, still marveling in the myriad of sensations there were to experience on a planet instead of on a Battlestar. As her senses explored, her writing hand was cradled in her lap as she gently massaged it.

She must have been that way for a while; the sun moved in the sky far enough that her patch of shade moved. The tingling sensation along her fair skin that came from too much direct sunlight alerted her. She'd burn if she didn't move. With a sigh she pulled herself to her feet and looked around for a place to go.

...

Bill moved along the boardwalk with a book tucked under his arm. He looked the part of Colonial Officer taking some leave. He hadn't put on civilian clothes; it had felt too weird. The book was there to help him forget everything for a while, just like a good book was supposed to do. He knew he wouldn't forget her though; he just needed a break from constantly remembering.

...

The Final Five, half the Cylon models, and even some centurions had ultimately sided with humanity. It was insulting. He'd wanted to show the Final Five the truth of humanity's depravity. He had another chance now. Cavil had already inserted the Final Five into Colonial society by the time he regained his memories of the Future, but he could still make plans.

Before the final battle had been lost, the Cylon line known as Cavil had made sure there was one copy that survived from their line. This last copy had one desperate gamble. The gamble seems to have paid off, he thought to himself as he handed out assignments to the other Cylon models.


	3. Blue Eyes

Stiff muscles protested as Laura stood, and a small sigh escaped her lips as she stretched. Her body relaxed more easily than she was used to, the return of some youth having its perks. She had started to accept her return to the Colonies with her mind unable to deny the surroundings in which her senses soaked. It seemed bittersweet, enjoying the world when she was alone, but she'd spent so long in a body fading from the world. Now she could breathe deeply as the wind picked up, whipping her hair around her face. She had to push the strands away while looking around for a place out of the sun to relocate.

She watched a chipmunk run across the grass, little animals were not something she'd really seen in over four years. It skittered about until it crossed paths with a man who walked close by. The proximity of a stranger caught her attention, Laura having lived on high alert for years. She looked up and accidently caught the stranger's gaze and felt the breath stolen from her lungs. The world around her faded away as their eyes met, and she stared into his cobalt eyes that matched the blue of his Colonial uniform. Her body shook, as she watched the man come to an abrupt halt, before carefully edging closer. Her mind screamed, trying to remind her aching heart that there was an entire forgotten life separating them. But Laura's heart was too busy pleading to the Gods, begging them to be giving Bill back to her.

...

Bill walked along the grass, listening to the crunch of fallen twigs and leaves, and, although he missed the metallic echo of walking through a Battlestar, he enjoyed the fresh air with its strange combination of salt and flowers. For so long he'd only known the stale recycled air of a spaceship. It was a beautiful world for such a sad man.

He searched for an unoccupied bench, and his heart skipped a beat when he caught a flash of red hair in the sunlight. Knowing the odds that it was the redhead he most wanted to see, he shook himself. It wouldn't do to go chasing after every redhead he met, he'd end up spending his life chasing ghosts. It was time to pull himself together, he mentally berated. He'd given the Laura of this time a way to find him, and if that didn't work he could think of a new plan. Yet his curiosity pulled him toward the fiery sight anyway. When the woman turned around Bill got a good look at her face and felt the emotions tear through him, and it felt as if someone had knocked the wind out of him. His body tensed as he looked into her green eyes. Laura.

The urge to take her in his arms was overpowering, and his body throbbed with the effort it took to restrain himself. His heart hammered in his chest as he tried to remind himself that his Laura was gone. The memories and experiences they'd had together were lost to a different time. He'd watched her die, and he'd buried her. The pain of her death still ripped and tore at every fiber of his being, a wound more painful than any gunshot had ever been.

Yet here she was, and she appeared alive, vibrant, and beautiful.

He stepped toward her. The closer he came the clearer he saw the emotions raging in the green eyes he knew so well. She watched him carefully, and he kept calm, not wanting to scare this Laura off. He carefully entered her personal space, with the caution and finesse of a military soldier examining the unpredictable. Something flashed in her eyes, and he hoped it was the spark of recognition.

"Bill?" Laura whispered in a hoarse and breathy voice, taking a step closer to him.

Bill let out the breath he'd been holding when his name passed her lips. He reached out with a trembling hand, touching Laura's cheek, the soft touch a gentle caress before he held her face just as he had when they'd reunited on the Cylon Baseship. His whole body surged with the fire of hope. His battered and broken heart shattered at the pain and joy of his beloved's possible return.

A smile formed on Laura's lips. He stared at her as if he couldn't quite believe she wasn't some part of an almost forgotten dream. His filled with wonder and love, she couldn't hold back her sob.

"Laura," he breathed, her name a prayer on his lips. A second later his arms were full as she flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his body as if he were her only lifeline in a raging storm. His embrace was equally tight, his arms having ached to hold her like this once more. He felt her body shaking with sobs, and his own tears were like rivers down his cheeks. Bill had his Laura back.

Their hearts raced as they clung to each other, staying pressed together for some time. For those moments, it was enough. The only things that mattered was staying together, breathing familiar scents, and feeling two hearts beating together again.

"Is it really you?" she asked, her voice muffled from her face being pressed into his neck.

"It's me," he said, his voice deepening from the depth of emotion it carried. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair, as red and soft as he remembered before she'd started fading in front of him. "We're together," he promised. Hearing her thanking the Gods, he couldn't even find his own voice to croak out his own relief, but there were no words to express how it felt to have her back.

Finally, too many questions burned in Laura's mind, and she pulled back, but only enough to look up at him. Her hands wandered down from where they'd been entwined around his neck to move over his shoulders to his chest. She needed the contact, to feel how sold he was.

Bill watched her hands move over him, noticing that they no longer shook uncontrollably. She wasn't skin and bones and pale as a ghost in his arms, but flushed and healthy. His breath caught in his throat as he looked in her eyes again, sharp and clear without a haze of drugs dulling her senses and numbing the pain she'd lived in. It was a relief. Pressed so close, they breathed the same air for in an endless moment, reading the other's eyes, nothing hidden, nothing withheld. They were together.

"How is this possible?" Laura asked, her voice thick with emotion.

He frowned slightly before resting his forehead against hers. "I don't know," he admitted. "What do you remember?"

"Everything, I think. The last thing I remember was sitting in a raptor with you, and we were looking for a spot to build our cabin," she said. "I should be dead."

Bill's sharp grip tightened on her. "You're here now".

"Right here," she assured him, realizing he must have seen her die. She took a shaky breath and tried to smile reassuringly, but she saw the pain in his eyes, deeper than the oceans of Picon. "What happened Bill?"

"I remember everything. I had to bury you," he said, his tone the voice of a man whose heart had been broken. "I found myself on Picon a few days ago. Been working on coming up with a plan."

"I'm so sorry," Laura said, her own voice rough with guilt, but Bill shook his head.

"Laura, every second we had together was a gift. I wouldn't trade the time we had together for anything," he said. Bill's hand moved to her chin, and he gently forced her to look back up into his eyes, overflowing with sincerity. "Don't feel sorry."

"I wanted more time with you. We had such a short time together. It seems almost too good to be together on Picon."

"What if this isn't real?" It would destroy him if he gave into this life, into being with her again, and for it to turn out to be nothing more than fantasy or farce. Laura physically winced at the thought, and she looked out over the world.

"I kept waiting for this to be just a dream, but it isn't. It keeps going, and we're both here," she said, looking around again at the trees, the grass, the sky, the people. Life continued around them. She heard Bill grumble. He was her skeptic. "Bill, there have been so many unexplained things we've seen. The Tomb of Athena. The Temple of Five. Everything surrounding Kara Thrace."

"So we just...live?" he asked. He'd gotten better at taking the things thrown at them in stride, but this was a whole new level of impossible. Bill's habit was to believe what his senses were telling him, and his senses were filled with the woman he was holding. There was no way he was letting her go.

She saw the determined look in his eyes, and smiled. "We face this life together."

"I love you," he said, taking Laura by surprise. Of course she'd known, he'd told her in his way and that had been good enough for her. She didn't expect to hear the words or react so strongly to how they sounded coming from this particular man. But when Bill professed his love so clearly and sincerely it sent shivers through her as more tears sprang to her eyes. As if getting used to the words, Bill said them again.

Pleased at Laura's heartfelt reaction, and unable to resist any longer, his mouth found hers. He kissed her and it seared through both of them, filling their veins with fire. At first, it was only a delicate butterfly of a kiss, gentle and almost shy as they relearned each other. Then Laura's lips parted under Bill's attention and it became passionate, comforting, and exhilarating all at once. One arm wrapped around her back to hold her close, while his other hand traced its way up to her neck, his thumb caressing the soft skin there. He felt her tremble.

"About time," she said, catching her breath when they finally broke the kiss. Provoked by her teasing and feeling the smile on her lips, he claimed them again in another burning kiss. It promised that this was real, and that the love and passion igniting in them both couldn't be imagined or dreamed. Bill deepened the kiss and felt a familiar soft moan in the back of her throat. He pulled back, observing the healthy flush to her cheeks, and he ran his fingers along the reddened skin. She was alive.

He knew without a shred of doubt now that this was his Laura. She was the same woman he'd led a fleet across the stars with and had come to respect and love. The only difference was how much younger she looked. Her glorious red hair once again fell in curls down her back and a mischievous sparkle lit up green eyes.

"Come with me," Laura grinned, taking his hand and pulling him along. "We should go somewhere more private."

My Laura, Bill thought. Unwilling to let her go, he kept a hold of her hand in public as she guided them back to her hotel room. The whole way back, Bill couldn't stop staring at her. There was no trace of sickness, cancer, or weakness. She was the happiest and most energetic he'd ever seen as they revelled in the joy of being reunited. He couldn't resist pulling her to him for quick pecks, and the sparks flying between them was undeniable.

Once in her room, Laura couldn't keep her hands off him, needing to be close to him, to saturate her senses with his warm presence. She pulled him to her and gripped him tight, and he responded by kissing her lips until they were swollen and red. His hands stroked every inch of her body he could reach, with a tenderness that made Laura feel as if she were made of glass. He brushed away her tears when dark memories threatened to come back, and she whispered soft reassurances to him. Miraculously reunited, they happily and eagerly responded to the other.

...

Laura was dreaming again, it had that familiar hazy quality that plagued her visions. A visceral and instinctive irritation clawed through her at experiencing this phenomenon again. Ready to lash out, Laura calmed when she turned and saw an old friend.

"Elosha," Laura said, smiling and embracing the wise looking priestess. The woman chuckled as if sensing the former President's mood swing. Wise brown eyes twinkling with knowledge, Elosha lead Laura over to a spot on a grassy hill. Music swirled around them, a strange dirge echoed over the plane in a language from ages now long forgotten.

"You look happy," Elosha noted, nodding her sage approval.

Laura laughed. "Yes. I found Bill. We're together and I still can't believe it."

"Believe it, Laura. You and the Admiral have earned some happiness, don't you think? I'm proud of you for choosing to love."

Laura smiled and pulled her knees to her chest. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she let the melody washed over her. "He's worth it"

"Don't lose each other in the coming storms," Elsoha warned, looking out at the distant horizon as Laura's gaze snapped to her. 

Alarm prickled Laura's skin, but the priestess held up a hand to stop the onslaught of questions. Laura had to bite her tongue to keep quiet and listen, but the thought of losing Bill again had her wanting to vehemently demand answers.

"I can't tell you everything my friend, but I can try to help," Elosha's voice was soothing like warm honey, and it took the edge of Laura's nerves listened. "Time was reset as you've seen. This was done by the one the Sacred Scrolls called the jealous god who played with forces beyond his understanding," Elosha turned to look at Laura. "These powers have granted you your memories."

"I'm not sure I understand. Will there be others who remember?"

"Oh, I think so," Elosha nodded. On the brink of asking more questions, the world around Laura blurred and faded. As usual with her visions, she awoke feeling as if she'd only been given half a message. Instead of answers, she had more questions.

Laura opened her eyes and felt soothed by the warm arm draped around her and the heartbeat under her ear. Despite her dream, she felt safe and warm and happy. Waking up a little more, she felt Bill's fingers tracing patterns on her skin. Her head pillowed on his chest, she looked up and smiled into eyes darkened by the dim light of the room.

"Are we going to catch any sleep?" she asked in tired rasp.

He chuckled and rolled her under him and watched the approving grin spread over her face. They'd been practically half-conscious the entire night, falling asleep interrupted over and over again by either his need to be inside her or her need to feel his embrace. This time his fingers intertwined with hers, resting on each side of her head while the autumn hair of hers cascaded everywhere.

"I don't want to wake and learn this was all a dream," he said, kissing her.

"It's not," she promised.

"I need you, Laura," he said, and she shuddered under the weight of such honesty but also flew free. The wasn't the Admiral telling the President the people needed her anymore. This was Bill Adama baring his soul and connecting with the love of his life. He looked deep into her eyes. "I can't lose you."

Love was the ultimate vulnerability. "I know, Bill," she whispered against his cheek, wrapping her arms around his back and holding him close. Cancer and the apocalypse had stripped them of all pretense, and Bill could finally admit that it was he himself who needed Laura, claiming everything she was willing to give. They realized that they might never know how or why they'd been reunited in the past, but both of them were clearly overjoyed at the chance to be together. And if another apocalypse was coming, they had the chance to try and stop it.

...

Cavil's mind spun with plots and plans. The greatest weapon the Cylons now had was his knowledge of the future. Future success would rely on him turning that knowledge into a weapon; a sharp and brutal weapon he'd bring great joy in using.

As he reviewed the previous timeline, he realized the greatest failure he'd been guilty of was consistently underestimating humanity.

His greatest desire was to destroy humanity's will to survive. Now that thought bright a sadistic smirk to his face. The spark of being 'alive' and not just existing. His Cylon mother's greatest goal had been to give her creations that same spark. He'd destroy that spark in humanity.


	4. Ceremony

The sound of rain pattering against the window was the first thing Laura became aware of as she drifted into consciousness. She stretched, arching her back and groaned at the pleasant ache in her muscles from the night before. She slowly opened her eyes and found Bill looking at her with a tender expression on his face. It hadn't all been a dream.

She grinned sleepily up at him.

"You look satisfied," he quipped, sounding just a bit smug. A little giggle escaped from her before she accepted the morning kiss he brushed against her lips. It felt natural and right. He sat back up in the bed, resting against the headboard.

Laura pushed her tangled hair out of her face and took a moment to study him. Not only did he look younger, (as did she) but he was relaxed - more relaxed than she'd ever seen. He still looked the part of seasoned warrior; on his face remained the scars he'd gotten in the First Cylon War, but his body was more toned and lean now. He radiated strength and a power, but that wasn't new. A blush reddened her cheeks when she was caught staring, and she turned her gaze toward the book he held. Their book. Searider Falcon.

"You reading to me during treatment was the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. It took my mind off everything," she admitted.

"Needed to do something to help."

"It did. No one had ever cared for me like that, or loved me like you did," she murmured.

"I didn't tell you though," he replied. The friendship between them had been wonderful and precious. Every other major relationship in his life had been riddled with disasters, many of them of his making. Any relationship needed to take into account the the Fleet and their positions. He couldn't deny the risk blurting out his feelings out would entail. So, he'd tried to keep a wall up, but she'd come into his life and gotten hold of his heart anyway.

"You showed me," she assured him, rolling over to rest her head on his chest. He draped an arm across her shoulders and tangled a hand in her hair while his heart skipped a beat. He'd never had this from a partner before; true understanding and acceptance. If she could embrace who he was, then he could damn well tell her what she meant to him, even if it was not in his nature.

"You once thought I loved Galactica more than you," he pointed out, and she hummed in acknowledgement. He took a deep breath before continuing. "The truth is that I loved you more than anything. Still do."

"Oh Bill," she breathed. She felt warmth gathering behind her eyes; had anyone ever felt so deeply for her? No. She closed her eyes as emotions washed over her like the rain which fell over Picon. They listened to the distant rolling thunder.

Bill turned his attention back to the book he held with one hand.

"I wouldn't mind more proof," he muttered. He felt Laura fidget slightly before sitting up to look at him.

"Bill?"

"Yea?" He noticed she was biting her lip.

"There is more proof," she admitted. She got up and slipped a robe on before walking through the room to her purse. She reached in and grabbed something. Intrigued, he set Searider Falcon on the bedside table. Returning, Laura revealed the gold ring in her palm, and for a second Bill's blood ran cold. He never thought he'd see the band again.

"I was wearing it when I woke up. It's yours isn't it?" she asked. He felt a shudder go through his body as his mind was assaulted by memories of taking her limp hand in his and placing the ring on her lifeless finger.

"It…it was mine." The words seemed he wanted to say were caught in his throat. He needed to explain. "I put it on your finger after you died… I had wanted to marry you. You were already my partner in every way that mattered, but if we'd had the chance," he breathed in a rush of honestly and bravery. Where was his military bravado when he needed it? He looked down at the ring. He remembered wanting to give her one last gift, one last proof of his love and devotion. Reliving those moments ripped at the bandages around his still healing heart. He continued in a voice thick with emotion. "It seemed right to put it on your finger."

Laura felt lightheaded from his words, and her heart beat wildly. There were so many things they hadn't been able to do.

"I'd like to have been your wife," she whispered.

"Laura?"

"We had responsibilities. Besides, how would it have looked if the Admiral and President got married? I can almost hear the accusations the Quorum would have thrown at us; collusion, fraternization, favoritism. It was...safer to try and push what I felt to the side. We know how that turned out though," she smiled, but dropped her gaze down to the ring. "You should know, my cabin, it was always meant for both of us," she revealed, fidgeting with the band. She couldn't keep still, her body pulsed with energy as she allowed herself to admit the full depth of her feelings despite how frayed it made her nerves.

"We're just Bill and Laura now," Bill began.

"That's true."

"There's nothing and no one here to stop us."

"Not anymore," she acknowledged, feeling his hand reach under her chin to tilt her gaze back up to his eyes. He regarded her for a couple of moments, letting the silence drag on, enjoying sweet tension of this moment.

"Marry me?" he proposed in his deep and husky voice that Laura loved.

If this reality was all a delusion, then at least his dreams would come true for a moment.

For Laura, time stopped. In that moment she realized a few important things. They truly were just Bill and Laura at that moment. There was nothing to stop them (although one day there might be). She wanted this. She had known for a long time now that they belonged to each other. A slow smile spread across her face.

"About time," she replied, and Bill chuckled at the memory her words evoked while enjoying the love and mischief dancing in her eyes. It reminded him of the Laura he knew on New Caprica.

"Yea?" he asked, his own smile wide.

"We know we belong together. Let's make it official," she answered before kissing him along his jaw and to his ear. She nipped his ear playfully before whispering, "right now." Her voice was determined, and Bill knew that feisty tone well. His Laura.

"Now?" he asked and felt his heart racing.

"I want a life with you. A marriage. It may sound silly, but I want everyone and everything to realize that sooner rather than later. This is our chance, Bill." She sounded fierce and vulnerable all at once. Bill's eyes were fixed on her, utterly captivated. This was the strong willed, feisty, and determined woman he'd fallen in love with. Cancer had tempered some of her fire, but Laura was blazing again. And she wanted him.

Bill climbed out of bed tugging her up with him. Surprised, she stumbled, but he was there to catch her. Laura quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Get out of that rack and get ready Roslin. We're going and finding a priest," he announced.

They grinned, feeling wild and free at that moment. It was a sensation neither of them had felt in a long time. They'd lived lives too defined by their roles as the President and the Admiral. Now, they were ready and more than willing to be defined as a husband and a wife.

...

"This isn't the romantic wedding I imagined," Bill frowned looking out the door. Lightning flashed overhead. A few seconds later, thunder rolled. People rushed into the hotel to get out of the rain, and they slipped and slid across the wet marble floor. He glanced at Laura. Her green chiffon sundress had nearly stopped his heart when he'd first seen her in it, but it would afford little protection against a Picon storm.

"You imagined our wedding?" Laura teased and giggled when Bill shifted and tugged on his ear uncomfortably. Yes he had. "Come on. We've braved the rain before," she quipped while thinking of Kobol. She pulled Bill into the rain after her. The rain soaked through their clothes, and Bill heard Laura giggling beside him. He grinned himself. This was right. It was unique. It was them.

They found the temple almost deserted. A few people meditated and prayed in the communal area of the worship space. The central shrine had statues of the Lords of Kobol interspersed with candles which cast a warm glow around the room.

An acolyte greeted them at the door, and Bill explained that they wanted to marry right away. The boy raised an eyebrow and looked between them. Two rain-soaked individuals smiling like Cheshire cats. A Fleet uniform. Bill wondered how many sailors came through with a sweetheart trying to get married before shipping out. After a moment the acolyte motioned for them to follow.

Neither Bill nor Laura noticed the man who'd been tailing them duck into the temple after them. That person moved off to the side to pray, while keeping a discreet eye on Bill and Laura. His orders commanded him follow Laura Roslin and observe without being himself seen. So far, so good.

The acolyte brought the couple to a priestess who had been lighting smoky smelling incense around the temple.

"They wish to get married today," he explained to his boss.

The Priestess looked them over with judging eyes while blowing out her lit match. "This bond is not made lightly, it is a sacrament in the sight of the Gods," they heard the warning in her tone. Bill and Laura nodded, understanding how crazy they must look. How could the priestess know that they were as committed to each other as two people could be?

"We know."

The conviction in their tone couldn't be misinterpreted, and the Priestess nodded. She led them into a side chapel, and the acolyte returned with a clipboard and paper. Bill recognized these blank forms from his first marriage.

"Then I'd be happy to perform the marriage. We need to first have a Colonial Marriage License on file for you first," she explained and instructed them on what to do before leaving them to fill out the papers. Kara might have been able to do a quick river-side wedding in their post-apocalyptic society, but before the apocalypse there was paperwork. It hit the both again. The mundane paperwork served to shock to the system. They stood on the Colonies before the Fall, and everything around them was real. Bill filled out his section before handing it over to his wife-to-be. Her hands shook a little, and he placed a reassuring hand on the small of her back.

"Should I be worried about you ripping the paper up and tossing it in the air?" he joked. She laughed and shook her head.

"Not this time," she promised, handing the acolyte the forms. She pushed wet hair out of her face and tried to straighten out her dress as the damp fabric clung to her. Bill chuckled as he watched her fidget before taking her shoulders in his hands.

"You look beautiful, Laura," Bill assured her, "and I'm nervous too. I want to get it right this time. You deserve a good husband," he spoke softly, and Laura felt her stomach somersault. She wasn't used to him talking like this. She leaned against him.

"You'll get it right. I know that," she insisted. Bill frowned and tried not to remind himself that his track record wasn't one to be proud of. He was a fine officer, but he'd failed as a husband once already. Yet here he was with Laura, and she was smiling at him with trust, warmth, and love radiating from her eyes. She wanted him - the good and the bad. He wanted her. It was that simple.

They both heard footsteps echoing against the stone and turned to see the Priestess making her way toward them.

"Follow me," the Priestess ordered before making her way to the front of the chapel. Following her, they both jumped when thunder cracked overhead which shook the building with its intensity. The sound of rain got louder and louder on the roof of the temple - their only music. Hearts raced. Bodies trembled. Eyes sparkled. Then they were standing with their hands entwined before the Priestess under a statue of Zeus and Hera.

"The words I'm about to speak are the most powerful in all the universe. They seal a union between this man and this woman, which is not only for now, but for all the eternities."* She spoke solemnly and paused to pierce them with her intense gaze. Bill's thumb caressed the back of Laura's knuckles in a loving and comforting gesture. The Priestess continued when she was sure the gravitas of the oath being taken wasn't lost on the bride or groom. She turned to face Laura.

"Laura Judith Roslin, will you have this man to be your husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health in good times as well as in bad and forsake all others, to be faithful to him with every fiber of your being?"

Laura looked into Bill's eyes and immediately replied.

"With every fiber of my being."

"William Joseph Adama, will you have this woman to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health in good times as well as in bad and forsake all others, to be faithful to her with every fiber of your being?"

Bill smiled at her and replied without hesitation or reservation.

"With every fiber of my being."

"As of this moment I declare you husband and wife in the sight of the Gods. May Hera bless this union, may Athena grant you wisdom, may Apollo grant you prosperity, may Aphrodite grant you children, and may those united before Zeus never be divided," she paused and took a deep breath. "So say we all."

"So say we all," they echoed, and Bill pulled his new wife to him for a passionate kiss that stole the breath from their lungs; their first as husband and wife. A wave of pure happiness coursed through them and tears spilled down their cheeks.

"My wife," Bill marveled when they broke apart and a giggle burst from Laura.

"My husband," she hummed. They looked back to the priestess who smiled at them and offered her congratulations. Bill thanked her, and she nodded at them before walking off. He turned to face his smirking wife.

"So, Admiral, any other..." Laura froze and stared off into the distance. "Bill!" she hissed, pressing close to him. He instinctively responded by wrapping a protective arm around her.

"What? Laura…oh," he replied following her gaze. She felt him transition from her loving newlywed husband, to her Admiral. His whole body tensed while his emotions locked down. He focused. "Doral," he growled.

"Looks like him," she agreed while staring at the man who knelt on the floor and prayed. Bill leaned to whisper orders in Laura's ear. "Don't stare at him. Don't draw any attention," he commanded, snapping into his role as soldier. He had a job to do; protect his wife, get them to safety, and help the Colonies.

"I didn't know they'd infiltrated the Colonies so early. What do we do now?" she asked, tearing her gaze away from the possible Cylon and towards Bill. She'd spent years trusting him with military decisions, she wasn't about to stop now.

Bill observed Doral. He didn't need to look straight at the Cylon, but the man with his gaudy suit stayed constantly in his peripheral gaze. The Cylon, for his part, seemed completely uninterested in anything around him; he seemed to be an average pious citizen of the colonies. Bill didn't want to attract any attention from the potential Cylon either way, and he turned to face Laura, taking her hands in his.

"We'll head to your hotel and talk there. Keep walking and act natural," he commanded and watched Laura swallow and nod.

"OK," she replied and her voice was strong and sure even though her eyes betrayed her nervousness. He took a second to raise their intertwined hands to his lips and brush a kiss over her knuckles. It's going to be OK, he told her silently. She nodded.

Together they walked to the entrance of the temple and noticed the storm raging again. Bill pulled her into the rain even as thunder cracked overhead.

Doral watched them leave from behind his hands closed in prayer. He decided not to follow them immediately; he knew where they were heading.

...

Bill sank into a chair and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Are we sure it was him?" Laura asked, pacing back and forth.

"Absolutely sure?" he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "There's billions of people on the Colonies. Some of them look alike, and I wasn't going to walk up ask the man if he was a Cylon," he reasoned. Never give up tactical information to the enemy. Simply knowing Doral was a Cylon gave them an edge which Bill wasn't going to reveal.

"What are we going to do?"

"There's not much we can do," Bill admitted. He'd been running through options on the way back to the hotel room, and he had no doubt that she been doing that as well. There was no option open to them that didn't land them in a psych ward. 'Hi, we've experienced the future, and we are pretty sure this guy is a Cylon. Oh, and the world is going to end in about 16 years,' wasn't a great opening for a military or police report.

"My Gods, Bill. How are we supposed to stop what happens?" Laura exclaimed. Observing her increasing frenzy and agitation, Bill caught his new wife's hand and tugged her down onto his lap. He felt her tension even as she allowed him to pull her close.

"We'll figure it out and face whatever the future brings us. Alright wife?" he promised, trying to reassure them both and tasting her newest title on his lips. Even if danger lurked in the shadow, Bill knew he'd gladly face it if it meant having Laura back.

"Alright, husband," she murmured still tense. Laura knew he made sense, even if her mind still grasped for solutions. Warily, she laid against him and rested her head on his shoulder. Suddenly, her body shuddered like a leaf in the wind.

"Why does it seem like every time we try and find a bit of happiness something bad has to happen. We find Earth and its a wasteland. New Caprica turned into a disaster. We find a beautiful planet, where we could have built a cabin, and I die. We find each other again and marry, but right away we see a Cylon," she lamented as a storm of volatile emotions welled up inside her. Suddenly, four years of pent up emotion came spilling out of her, and she was crying into Bill's shoulder. She didn't consider herself a woman prone to emotional outbursts, but she'd let herself have this.

"We'll figure it out and take every day as it comes," Bill began, his own voice rough and full of emotion. He pressed a kiss to her temple. "We will be happy," he promised and felt his own heart constrict as he held Laura and felt her tears through his shirt. The rain continued its downpour, mirroring Laura who finally released the stress and heartache she'd held at bay for years. He understood. "And if any Cylons try to mess with my wife I'll kick their ass," he joked and heard what he supposed might have been a strained laugh.

"I'm sorry that all came tumbling out, and I've cried all over you," Laura sniffed and blushed as her tears abated. Bill just smiled and reached out to caress her cheeks gently, wiping away some of the tears away.

"What are husbands for?" he asked. She managed a weak smile before snuggling into his arms, her eyes now raw and puffy. They stayed together in silence listening to the rain outside.

"We got married," Bill marveled, breaking the silence.

"Married and bound to each other for all eternity," Laura hummed. "Although we did skip an entire conversation about logistics of married life for us."

"Like how I'm in the Fleet," Bill sighed, dreading this talk. "We know the Cylons are out there. I can do some good if I stay with the Fleet. But I'll be gone. A lot. We really didn't..." Laura hushed him with a finger to his lips after listening to him struggle for words.

"You don't have to explain. I understand why you need to go, even if I'll miss you constantly."

"I can try to help prepare them. But, if I can't and the attacks happen again, I want to be on Galactica with you there beside me. I want to keep my family safe," Bill said. It seemed he shared her feeling that the attacks would happen again, even if they tried to prevent them.

For a moment Laura relished the fact that she and Bill were now family in the sight of both the Gods and the law. Then the realization dawned on her; they really had skipped an entire 'logistics of married life' set of discussions. Laura covered her mouth to keep the laughter from bubbling out.

"Laura?" He asked confused at her sudden mirth.

"I'm Lee's stepmother," she giggled. Bill pinched the bridge of his nose at the absurdity of their life. Laura just laughed harder until she was gasping for air. She caught Bill's concerned expression.

"You get the giggles at the strangest times," he muttered, getting a faraway look in his eyes. "Zak's stepmother too," he added. His thoughts turned to his youngest son. He was going to see his little boy again. A tear slipped down his cheek, and he took a ragged breath. "I'm going to protect them," he promised. He looked at Laura and explained. He told her about Carolanne and how he'd learned on Galactica that she'd been an abusive parent to Lee and Zak. He explained the tension between him and his ex and revealed of the pitfalls and failures of his last marriage.

Laura listened without judging and offered her support. Someone who didn't know him so well might miss it, but she heard the emotion in his voice. It revealed his desperation to make their marriage work and to protect his boys.

"It's frustrating to know of things that should be changed, and to not know how to change it," he finished venting. His brow furrowed. "The two of us alone can't prevent the attacks, and I can't just take my kids away from their mother," he growled. Laura reached out to take his hand, squeezing it in reassurance. "I didn't mean to drag you into this."

"We chose to face life together. All of it," she assured him with a small smile. "I'll admit, I'm curious about meeting your boys as children…" she paused. "If that's what you want," she said, looking down at their clasped hands and trying not to fidget nervously.

"Soon as I can, if you're willing. I can't wait to see them," he took a deep breath. "You're taking this all in stride really well."

"I assumed the Presidency after a nuclear holocaust. It's nice be a normal couple with normal problems too. You know? Where the wrong choice doesn't end humanity," Laura quipped.

"The future," he mused. It was unwritten, and they both knew their marriage had irrevocably shifted things. Lost in thought, he pulled her back into his embrace. She sighed in contentment. Their union would have some interesting consequences.

...

Cavil wondered who else remembered. He was the unofficial leader of the Cylons, and he remembered. What if his counterparts in humanity did as well? He needed to know. Their future President hadn't been hard to find, and Doral was easily convinced to watch her. Their future Admiral was a little harder to observe.

At the heart of humanity's survival had been those two people. The body and soul of humanity had been protected by them. But, not content with just humanity, the two leaders had eventually welcomed the renegade Cylons into their midst. Even more egregiously, they'd earned the loyalty and love of most of the Final Five. When the Final Five had sided with humanity over him, Cavil had known he'd truly lost.

He'd had a plan though. A little artifact he'd found which would help him fix his past mistakes and punish a few people in the process. These two leaders who'd thwarted him would be among those punished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Author's note: Taken from the marriage rite in the original Battlestar Galactica


	5. Good Bye

Cylons be damned. Laura and Bill were taking one night to push all their worries to the side so they could simply be together. They'd earned it. This night, their wedding night was theirs alone, and in those hours everything was perfect. The connection they shared was celebrated. Body, heart, and soul joined together in what they knew to be an unbreakable bond. It promised strength, acceptance, and love from the other forever. They stayed up late to enjoying every moment, and finally fell asleep pressed together and smiling.

But in the early hours of the morning, Laura began gasping for air and thrashing in the bed. Jarred awake, Bill urged Laura to open her eyes, promising her that they were safe. Her eyes snapped open, and her lungs gulped down air until she focused on him and his soothing words.

"That didn't feel like a normal nightmare," she admitted shakily. Bill continued running his hands along her arms and back as she shivered from what she'd seen in her dreams. His brows were drawn together as he looked down at her.

"You OK? Want to talk about it?" he asked, while wondering what more he could do. He watched her hesitate for a moment before plunging forward.

"We were on Colonial One. You were leaving. Tory came and gave me a letter, I think. Then I heard them coming. Deeper in Colonial One. Mechanical, metal clanging, but I needed to find something before I could hide in my office. I kept looking everywhere. I knew I couldn't leave without finding it. The clanging got louder. I was terrified Bill. Centurions surrounded me, and I was pressed against the wall…" she gasped and her voice broke. He pulled her into his arms as if wrapping his arms around her could calm the storm in her mind. He felt her burring her face in his neck.

"There's no Centurions on the Colonies," he assured her, trying to ease her obvious fear.

"But there might be the humanoid models," she replied. Hadn't they just seen Doral wandering the Colonies?

"And we are keeping an eye out for them," he replied. The room was so dark everything was shrouded in shadows, but he could feel her shaking in his arms. Laura was a strong woman and feeling how her nightmare had upset her disturbed him. "Dwelling on the danger won't change it," he pointed out.

"I know," she muttered. "What I don't know is why this felt like one of my visions when I haven't touched Chamalla."

"Something else we don't understand. I wish we had answers, Laura," he said before pressing kisses on her shoulder. He didn't have answers for either of them, and the questions piling up were threatening to make his head spin. Why were they back on the Colonies. Why did no one else remember? What could they do? He continued to press kisses to every inch of his wife's exposed skin as he felt her relax against him.

"Trying to distract us Admiral?" Laura murmured as one of his hands traced the hemline of the sheet across her body.

"Standard military tactics. Feel like another round?" he teased and groaned when she answered by pulling him into a passionate kiss, her nightmares pushed to the side for the time being.

…

That morning he left Laura in her hotel room after promising to be back as soon as possible once he retrieved his things from where he'd been staying. He keyed entry into his room and bent down to pick up the envelop which had been shoved under the door. The Fleet insignia on the front and his name scrawled on the back caused him to groan. He glared at the offending piece of paper while ripping it open. Orders. His hand clenched around the paper, crinkling it. He was commanded to report to his Commanding Officer ASAP. His spirits sank.

Bill had a job to do, and he accepted that. In a daze he checked out at the front desk and began making his way back to her. He cursed their over-inflated sense of responsibility that pushed them into their roles. But they both had a feeling the attacks would happen again. Laura's vision and seeing Doral only increased their foreboding. Of course he didn't want to leave Laura, but they knew there was some good they could both do in their lives back on the Colonies.

As he neared the hotel an idea struck him. He quickly made a detour and located what he wanted. His military training had failed him. He didn't notice Doral tailing him and keeping tabs on his movement. Bill had remained on alert, but the Cylon remained elusive and just out of sight.

...

The lilting notes of a pretty melody covered the noise of Bill shutting the door behind him. Music swept through Laura's hotel room from a radio. He had only recently learned she loved music. For a moment he watched her, nearly floored once again by how young and healthy she appeared while writing in her journal at the desk. The unwelcome news he bore drove him forward, but he hoped his additional surprise would soften his departure. He came up behind her and ran his hands up her arms while bending down to kiss along her neck.

"You were gone awhile," she murmured while unconsciously leaning her head to the side to give him better access to her neck.

"I needed to find something," he explained before kneeling down next to her. Out of his pocket he pulled a velvet box and handed it to her. Her breath caught in her throat as she opened it. Inside were two matching wedding bands in a simple design. She'd already taken to wearing his old band on her right hand, where he'd placed it at her death and where she'd found it a few days ago. But Bill wanted something new that matched its partner and marked this moment. Each band had two lines intertwining with each other. She looked at him wide eyed, and he smiled back at her.

"Our own wedding bands. The knot work seemed perfect. Two lives lived. Two lives now intertwined," he explained while trying to read the expression on her face. "I wanted us to have something for those moments when we doubt this life is real. Something to see and feel even though we're apart," he offered.

Laura couldn't help but smile; he was a romantic man under his layers and layer of stoicism and discipline. Emotional control helped make him an effective leader. She knew she was the only person who saw the unguarded side of him; the man of deep feeling and intense emotion. To her, it was an honor.

She reached into the box and pulled out the larger of the rings. Turning it over in her fingers, she examined the design while a single tear fell down her cheek. She reached for his hand and slid it on his ring finger. He did the same for her. They knew there would be days and nights when they were apart and the physical presence of a simple band of gold would make them feel a bit better.

Looking at their bands it hit them. They'd married, and it marked the first major change in this timeline. After putting his ring on Laura's lifeless hand, it felt right to only move forward after being reunited. Now new bands graced their fingers and further formalized a marriage. It had been unplanned, wild, hurried, and simple, but neither of them had a single regret. They'd come so far in their years together. Now, he wasn't too proud to admit he needed her, and she wasn't too scared to let herself love someone and be loved in return.

Bill hadn't been married in the sight of the Gods before. He and Carolanne had a civil service. Before Laura's Gods though, it was considered a sacrament. Unbreakable. He smiled at Laura as those thoughts went through his head. It was right to be sentimental, but he refused to go soft. It was time to break the other news.

"Laura?" she turned her attention from the rings to him. He opened his mouth to explain but finally just pulled out the note and handed it to her. She sighed and nodded after reading it. "I'm going to use the phone," he grumbled. He was connected to Universal Actual where his CO ordered his return to the Battlestar. They had some smugglers to take care of and needed their CAG to return. Laura listened to their conversation and felt her shoulders slump. When he got off the phone, he looked at her apologetically.

"You'll be back for leave," Laura said anticipating the apology on the tip of his tongue.

"Doesn't mean I like going."

"You're a soldier Bill. You wouldn't be happy just sitting on Caprica forever, even with me."

"I know how hard a Fleet marriage can be," he said. She reached over and took his hands in hers, squeezing them reassuringly.

"Bill...we have a marriage. I'm alive. You're alive. We broke the rules of life and death. We can and will make this work," she assured him patiently. "It will be hard, and this will take work. But I also know that I am never going to willingly leave you."

"I love you," he breathed. It still didn't come naturally to voice his feelings. The smile crept onto her face when she heard the words made it worth the effort.

"You'll call or write?" she asked lightly, but he could see the sadness in her eyes that she tried to hide.

"All the time, and I'll be planet side again soon," he assured. Laura knew he hated leaving her, but she wouldn't change who he was. He was a soldier. Life on a planet wasn't for him; not until they were both old again, and their people were safe.

"I can promise not to get thrown in Cylon detention while you're away this time," she teased with a small laugh.

"Not funny," he grumbled.

"It was a little funny."

…

A few days later, she took her own transport back to Caprica City. They had seen no sign of Doral since the incident in the temple. Bill warned Laura to keep a lookout, but both of them were starting to hope they had been overreacting. Visions disturbed her sleep, but she tried to pay them no mind. What was there she could do?

Laura walked through the capitol building of Caprica City. Aides rushed through the doorways, and lobbyist's voice echoed through the hallways. Her heels clicked against the marble and a cold shiver ran up her spine. She nearly jumped every time there was a noise too close to her, but she carried herself with poise and grace. Her old briefcase was clasped in her right hand as she made her way to her old office. Meanwhile, her left hand was tucked in her pocket where she fiddled with her wedding band. It was her greatest sources of comfort; something she could physically feel even though her new husband was far away.

She walked into her office. Papers were in neat stacks all over her desk. She'd mentally prepared for the reality of being back here but stared at the everything for a long moment and soaked it all in.

There was a knock at the door, and her head snapped up when someone strode though without waiting for her admittance. Seeing him alive again hit her like a ton of bricks; Mayor Richard Adar. He was grinning at her as he sauntered closer. He held himself tall and proud and was dressed in an impeccable suit although he'd casually unbuttoned his jacket. Suave, but relaxed.

"It's good to see you Laura," Adar said coming around the side of her desk and leaning in to kiss her. She turned her head so that he only touched her cheek. He frowned briefly. "Not happy to see me?" he pouted before planting a few kisses along her jaw before Laura had a chance to recover from seeing him alive and carefully push him back.

"Richard, we can't do this."

"Why? I thought we were on the same page," he said bringing a hand up to cover the one she had on his chest pushing him away. His thumb caressed her hand, and she tried to pull away, but his grip was firm. He looked at her intently, "I know you want me. So, come on Laura, tell me what's bothering you."

"I got married." She winced slightly at her abruptness but looked him in the eye. "I got married," she repeated gently. He laughed and pulled back a bit saw the serious glint in her eye. The hand holding hers on his chest carefully gripped it and pulled it back, holding it between them. His eyes traveled down, and he saw the ring. He dropped her hand and moved away from her. The man paced around her office for a minute, glancing at her every so often.

"I'll see you later," he said before retreating. She shook her head but sat down and got to work.

True to his world later he came back, marching up to her desk. She tossed the paper she'd been holding onto one of the stacks and folded her hands together. She knew how to portray calm and relaxed. I've been a politician longer, she realized. It struck her again, how bizarre her life was at the moment. How old am I? she asked herself while watching Richard.

"You really weren't joking," he announced tossing a copy of her marriage record down in front of her. Pre-apocalyptic record systems were sometimes a good thing, she noted. One can't argue with official documents. "Major William Adama of the Colonial Fleet. I didn't know military was your type Laura," he growled and folded his arms. "A Viper pilot too. Were you craving some excitement?" She merely cocked her head to the side and continued to meet his gaze.

"Is it because he is military or because he was available that really bothers you?" She asked carefully, her voice like silk with a blade hidden under the soft exterior.

Laura waited for a response. She'd met Richard right before he'd gotten married, and it was clearly a marriage of convenience not love. In another time Laura hadn't minded. Richard had always had a potent mix of charm, charisma, and ego. It was hard for people to say no to him. Long ago his attention and the thrill of their affair had made her feel alive again after she'd sunk into a depression when her whole family was tragically killed before their time. It turned out to only be a shadow of what a real relationship built on love could be like.

"Do you love him?" he finally asked.

"Yes."

"So you want to give us up? I thought you were enjoying this as much as I was," he moved a little closer while unfolding his arms. He reached over to place his hand on hers. "I love you too Laura. I thought we were on the same page," his voice was soft, rich, and sincere. His gaze burned with intensity, Laura pulled away and stood. She moved away from him and to the window. She needed space.

"You have a wife."

"So, you ran off and got married too? Were you trying to prove a point?" he challenged. He noticed the hard set of her jaw, and the way she folded her arms while standing ramrod straight. He knew that pose, and while a fight with Laura wasn't always something he was opposed to, this one could get ugly. He wouldn't win her this way. Quickly, he changed his tone to one filled with love and affection, the same tone he'd used to make Laura melt before. "There's something between us Laura. You know there is. It's something good."

"Richard this has to stop. Bill is a good man, and I won't betray him." Her firm tone left little room for argument. Richard must have seen how Laura was close to ripping him a new one because he backed off.

"OK. OK. It's just, you've never mentioned a man or a relationship before. And now you're suddenly married. It's too impulsive for you. I'm just thinking of you now. You know you're important to me. " His eyes meet hers to try and help convey his sincerity.

"You have nothing to worry about," she promised. She was trying not to alienate Richard; she still needed to work with him.

"Says the sweet schoolteacher married to a viper jock, the renowned bad boys of the Fleet." Laura's jaw clenched when he called her a schoolteacher. It had been used derogatorily enough to describe her over the last few years, and people's clear disregard for her profession pissed her off.

"Do you have business to discuss Richard? If not, I think I should get to work," she said coolly. She measured her tone carefully, adding just enough sharpness in to let him know that he was skating on thin ice.

Richard was surprised that nothing he'd said seemed to effect Laura. He couldn't believe that this was the same woman who'd been flirting with him shamelessly only a week ago. But he heard her message loud and clear. Even so, he wasn't ready give up Laura just yet. He loved her, wanted her, and needed her. But today's battle was over.

…

Doral reported to Cavil that the two ex-leaders had gotten married. Cavil pondered their union. They'd not been married in his timeline for sure, although he'd known they were close. The timeline was playing out differently. The fact remained that Adama and Roslin were dangerous together.


	6. You Can Go Home Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: please review! It's helping to keep me motivated!

"It's strange, not needing to ask to be connected to the President to call you," Bill said into the phone.

"You'll have to settle for calling your wife," she said, a teasing lilt to her voice. "And everything is strange. I had to drive for the first time in years! I nearly had a heart attack! And I have so much energy compared to..." she trailed off. Her cancer battle was still a hard subject to talk about. They'd both suffered so much as the cancer slowly took her life. "I went jogging along the river by my house just to burn some of it off," she continued. At the mention of her house, she became thoughtful.

"I noticed the energy," he teased.

"Where do you live Bill?" Laura suddenly asked.

"I detect another 'logistics of marriage' conversation we skipped. I don't have a place. Haven't had time to find one since the divorce," he said, leaning against a cold metal wall. The room had several phones for those trapped in space to make calls home.

"I told you Galactica was the first place I'd ever felt truly at home," Laura said and paused at the unexpected heartache. So much of their time together was bittersweet. "You know, I have a house, and, maybe, I can give you a home on Caprica," she offered.

"I'd like that," he said, enjoying the idea of making a home with her. Suddenly they both heard shouting from outside their own phone call. Bill sighed. "Saul is…talking…to Ellen," he explained.

"The more things change, the more they stay the same." It was true; despite how different things seemed for Laura and Bill, at the same time events were still the same. Movies. Books. Elections. They were reliving memories; arguments, combat patrols, and even weather. They were both struggling. Bill had to take orders again, Laura had to sit through familiar political issues and found they were even more tiring on the second round. It was like walking on a high wire and hoping no misstep sent them falling to the ground.

….

Caprica City's buildings gleamed as the day light reflected off them. Fall leaves bathed Caprica City's capitol plaza in gold, bronze, and ruby tones.

Major Adama waited in his wife's office while she finished attending a required governing session. To her dismay, she hadn't been able to pick Bill up from the spaceport. When he thought of her office, he still pictured Colonial One. This was much different. Windows let sunlight pour into the room, and the view of the plaza was spectacular, colorful. Here her warm personality was reflected in the decor, and Bill walked around fascinated by what she'd filled her space with. There were books on education, artwork, and classical statues. Her office told visitors that someone with class, sophistication, and education worked within its four walls.

Her voice joking with her aide broke through the silence, and his heart raced. Excitement pulsed through him at the knowledge that he'd see her soon, but he stood unnaturally still. This controlled excitement had been perfected over their years together on Galactica.

Then the office door opened, and Laura slipped into the room, closing the door behind her. She turned, and a breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. The joy which fed her smile seemed to race up from her toes, shattering the nervous tightness in her body along the way.

Frak controlled excitement; in the blink of an eye, Bill crossed the distance between them and had her pressed against the door. He'd missed her. His arms wrapped around Laura's, his wife's, body. His mouth descended on hers, kissing her tenderly at first but with an increasing intensity until it seemed like their souls were meeting together on their lips. She clung to him. Her hands knotting into fists in the fabric of his uniform, pulling him hard against her. She'd missed him too. The warmth radiating from his body rushed through her, making every fiber of her being feel fiercely alive. When they pulled back to breathe, a sigh escaped her now swollen lips.

"Hi," he rasped, bending to trail kisses down her neck. He needed to reconnect with her, to feel the warmth of her skin and the life in her body. While he was away, too many nightmares plagued him; of shaking hands, IV tubes, and death. But she was still here. He nipped her neck, and she let out a small hum.

"Missed you," she murmured. Her voice hitched, and her eyes warmed with tears at the intensity of their reunion. She yanked him back into her arms.

"Me too," he said, nuzzling her hair and smelling the faint scent of Caprican roses. "Let's go home," he suggested, taking her hand. She nodded and smiled at the lingering contact.

A few people raised their eyebrows at the normally quiet and demure Laura Roslin they believed they'd known; she was now smiling and giggling while making her way through the building with a Colonial Warrior. The rumor mill had gone into overdrive after she'd married, gossip spreading through the offices like wildfire. Hushed voices speculated among themselves that the marriage was a knee jerk reaction to the loss of her family. Others whispered that this new husband was helping to cover up her rumored affair with the Mayor.

The whispers didn't matter to them. Bill and Laura were reveling in being physically side by side again. It felt like they could take on the world. Then Laura noticed a group of people rounding the next corner.

The Mayor and his aides slowed in the hallway as they approached Laura and Bill, both of whom had become aware of their approach. Several people examined the soldier at their Director of Education's side with thinly veiled interest. The Mayor himself looked as though nothing could bother him, and he approached the couple with ease. Politicians, the world's supreme actors. Internally, he seethed at the sight of the man Laura had chosen over him. What could she possibly see in the scarred Tauron at her side? He wondered.

"Laura," Richard greeted in a light tone and a friendly smile.

"Mr. Mayor," she nodded. She watched Richard's eyes move down her body, to her hand clasped in Bill's. His gaze finally traced their way up to Bill's face. He quirked a judging eyebrow at them, but the smile stayed on his face. She stood a little closer to her husband, who gave her hand a squeeze. Laura took a deep breath and began making introductions.

"Bill, this is my boss, Mayor Richard Adar. Richard, this..." Laura looked over into Bill's eyes and for a moment they only saw each other. Laura smiled as a warm feeling rushed through her. "This is my husband, Major William Adama," she said, her heart beating wildly. It was the first time she'd introduced him as her husband to anyone, and it sounded good. The two men eyed each other warily but politely shook each other's hands. The tension between them was obvious, and for a moment the onlookers were reminded of wolves circling each other before a fight.

"Nice to meet you," Richard stepped back and smirked at Bill. "Your wife here is a…passionate woman. She had the entire governing body utterly captivated earlier."

"Richard…"

"Don't be modest! No one could stop listening or take their eyes off you!" Richard exclaimed, turning his attention back to Laura.

"She's pretty amazing," Bill said, and met Richards gaze when the other man's attention flipped back to him.

"I'm glad I claimed her…for my government," Richard said without flinching under Bill's narrowing stare. He turned to Laura and winked. "We're lucky to have her." Laura felt her skin heat and blush while Bill thought of the various ways he could put the man in a hospital before the security guard would even reach them. It helped him keep calm despite Richard's less than subtle attempt at provocation.

"Umm, thank you," Laura replied, noticing how Bill was trying not to glower. She leaned into his side before saying, "I know what it's like to feel lucky to have someone."

"It's good to meet you. Laura hasn't spoken much about you to be honest," Richard replied, oblivious to Laura's subtle body language.

"She hasn't spoken much about you at home either," Bill responded, his face taking on his usual stony passivity. He stood tall with his shoulders back and chin high.

"Have you been home much?" Richard retorted, and Laura shot a look at Richard for his insensitive comment.

"Not as much as I'd like," Bill admitted, his jaw tensing.

"Shame…"

"Richard, we shouldn't keep you. I'm sure you're busy," Laura cut in before the Mayor could add anything else.

"I can always make time for the Director of Education, but I understand you're busy." He took a step toward Laura and touched her arm. "Remember our meeting later this week," he said before moving off. Laura nodded and pulled Bill along in the opposite direction. She felt how tense he was as they left the building. Laura lead them to her car, but they walked in silence. Bill reached out his hand for the keys, and Laura decided that was one battle she didn't want to have. She dropped the keys in his palm and they climbed into car with Bill in the driver's seat.

"Bill?" Laura asked in a soft voice, noticing the tension in his jaw – what she knew to be the tell-tale sign that he was irritated.

"What is Richard Adar to you?" he pushed, shoving the keys into the ignitions. He heard her sharp intake of breath. "Laura?"

"None of your business," she said, trying not to blush. Looking out the window, she tried to quell the rising unease she felt at this conversation.

"Maybe I misunderstood what kind of marriage we wanted. I thought my wife might like to explain what that dance Adar was doing around me was about," Bill growled, pulling out of the parking lot. Another man making him feel, he wasn't really sure how he was feeling but he didn't like it, wasn't how Bill wanted to come home.

"Turn left. Do you really need me to say it?" Laura's cheeks blushed, betraying her embarrassment. Bill refused to answer her, keeping his eyes on the road. He gripped the wheel so tightly in his hands the knuckles were turning white. "Left again here. You heard the rumors, right?"

"Which ones. Election fraud, kidnapping, religious fanaticism…" he retorted, knowing that later he would regret bringing these particularly difficult moments up. He left the other whispers out, still not wanting to believe them. "You collected your fair share of rumors, Madame President."

"Like being a whore who frakked powerful men. First President Adar and then, you, the Admiral of the Fleet," she snapped, the harsh words hanging in the air between them. She had no doubt he'd heard the rumors, and in his idealism, had chosen not to believe them. It, no doubt, left him reeling, but she wasn't perfect and wouldn't pretend otherwise.

"Why Laura? He was married!" Bill asked in a harsh voice. Whatever mistakes she'd made as president, her motivations always seemed pure. He felt sick at the thought of her being the other woman; she was better than that. She pointed to the next road he needed to turn on, and he watched her open and close her mouth several times.

"He was a hard man to say no to. Well, he really didn't take no for an answer, and I wasn't in a position to make good choices. I'd just lost my family. They've been dead less than a year in this timeline, I didn't remember in time to save them. Losing my family, I felt dead. He made me feel…not dead. It continued up until the attacks; it was safe and convenient," she explained in a low voice, a tear slipping down her cheek.

They traveled in silence for a while as Bill thought about what she'd said. He knew how intoxicating it could be to use whatever was available to numb the feeling of loss and pain. Besides, Laura was loyal and kind; she'd never cheat on him like Carolanne had. He followed her directions for a few more turns, thinking of his ex-wife.

"It's over?" he asked, cringing as the atmosphere of the car seemed to turn to ice. Bill clenched his jaw again; he knew whatever there was between them was over, but, dammit, he wanted to hear her say it.

"What the?" Laura snapped, glaring at him and pulling away. "Bill, it never began in this timeline, and it never will! He just…doesn't take no for an answer very well," Laura hissed. Richard hadn't taken rejection well; he was clearly confused. He and Laura had been flirting shamelessly before she'd left for Picon, and she had came back distant and married. Married. She sighed. "If you're asking me if I have feelings for him... I've only ever loved one man," she said, giving him a pointed look.

"Well, his intentions toward you are plain," Bill replied, stunned for a moment.

"I don't care what his intentions are. You'd better not be like this the whole time we're married," Laura warned.

"I just don't know why you didn't tell me," he asked, and hid voice was sad. It tore at Laura to hear her fierce and strong Admiral sounding...down. This wasn't supposed to be how their reunion happened. She took a resolved breath. Her pride wasn't worth hurting him, so the words came tumbling out of her. It was hard, she wasn't proud of the affair and told him as much. But she revealed how overwhelmed and afraid she felt at suddenly being a wife for the first time; being open with someone was still new to her.

Bill listened, noticing the almost innocent way she spoke about trying to be a good wife, and part of his anger melted away to be replaced with pride. She'd chosen him. He was surprised when she told him that her affair with Richard Adar was the only other major relationship of her life, but it made sense. Neither of them were used to being open in relationships; they were too busy trying not to get hurt. By the end of their conversation, he had reached over and was holding her hand in her lap while the other stayed on the wheel. Laura's face was wet with tears, and she hoped crying wasn't a new trend she was starting. It did feel good to release the emotion.

"I'm sorry. For overreacting. I trust you. Completely," Bill assured. "I don't like him. I don't trust him. I'll leave it at that. Wouldn't want to be an overprotective husband to a wife who I know is strong willed and independent," he said, injecting some levity into the conversation. "We'll find our balance," he promised, kissing her wrist. Laura smiled, and then pointed to a house; they'd arrived.

….

Laura slept in their bed; she liked dozing after they made love, and he'd exhausted her with their make-up sex. Bill gazed over at her; it was nice to know that she was napping because she wanted to and not because the cancer was exhausting her. Sadness twisted Bill's heart as he realized they'd never slept together before she'd become ill. Russet tresses now covered the pillows and tickled his nose. Smiling, he slipped from the bed, careful not to wake her.

She had showed him her, now their, house after they'd first arrived and promised him they could make the changes needed until it was a home for both of them. He walked around making observations. The Roslin girls had loved art, and their pieces were scattered around the house. He approached a photo and picked it up; three sisters were laughing into the camera. They had never spoken too much about their lives before the attacks, but he knew the loss of her family was a source of deep pain for his wife. The picture showed a Laura he'd never seen - completely carefree. He wished he could have known this Laura who was surrounded by her sisters. Her warm, spirited, and teasing side was resurfacing now that they had a chance to be normal people, and she was seeing a less worn, rigid, and guarded Bill Adama. But there would always be ghosts of the past haunting them.

Replacing the picture, he moved on. Most of his belongings sat in a storage unit he'd gotten after the divorce, and they'd planned to retrieve his things later that day after Laura awoke. Warmth spread through his body at the thought of them combining their things and making a home together. It wasn't their cabin, but it would still be good.

He hoped that a normal life would suit them. Would Laura and Bill be happy away from Galactica and away from the personas of Admiral Adama and President Roslin? Would they be suited to be together as just man and wife? Even if they'd already been together, they'd jumped into marriage under a completely new set of circumstances. And yet he knew with absolute certainty that they'd made the right choice.

His and Laura's lives would always be dominated by the balancing act they were now forced to live with; preparing for the future and living their own lives. His younger body might not remember the future, but his heart and soul still did. He was still exhausted and worn from all the ordeals they'd suffered, but he was driven to do what he could to protect the Colonies - that was the oath he'd taken. But he was also determined to be a better man for his family and enjoy the new time he'd been granted. He might not show even Laura just how desperate he felt, but this was an opportunity he'd dreamed of and it would kill him to waste it. He wouldn't lose Zak again. Lee wouldn't spend a chunk of his life hating him again. He'd build a home with Laura. Building that home was his mission for the next few days until he had to go back to space. In fact, tomorrow he'd be going into battle against his ex so he could get his sons.

…

That very next day, he stood in front of Carolanne's home, his ex-wife of just over a month. There was a weight on his chest and a bad taste in his mouth. He had phoned after marrying Laura to tell Carolanne that they needed to talk. He also informed her that he'd be taking the boys when he was home during his next leave. That was his right according to the custody agreement; he got the boys while he was on planet.

He groaned knowing this was going to be a miserable experience. Carolanne's icy tones on the phone left little doubt at how unwelcome a sight he would be. She had grumbled at him, snapping that she already had plans with the boys. Bill hadn't backed down this time. He couldn't be intimidated. All he had to do was summon the image of Lee revealing Carolanne's abusive parenting, and he was ready to take on the whole Cylon empire.

He squared his shoulders before marching up to the front door and knocking. After a moment it swung open, and he was face to face with his ex. Her lips were pursed, and her eyes narrowed at him. Bill simply clasped his hands in front of him and kept calm. He had years of military discipline now to fall back on.

"What's going on Bill?" She snapped.

"I told you we need to talk," he began in a level tone. She did deserve to know that the boys would be meeting their new stepmother. He would extend that respect, although from her perspective he had very quickly remarried. She opened the door enough for him to enter, but folded her arms and squared off with him right after he crossed the threshold.

"If you are here to spin a tale of how much you love me and can't live without me, save your breath. It's too little too late," she barked and pressed on when Bill was too shocked to reply. "If you'd realized you couldn't live without me sooner…

"I remarried," he cut her off. He'd meant to use more tact, but the direct approach could work too. A crack of laughter sliced through the air followed by another. Then she realized how serous he was.

"Excuse me?" she asked in a low voice.

"I married someone else Carolanne."

"Is this some sick joke?"

"No. I just thought you should know. The boys are meeting her today."

He saw the anger twisting on her face. She slowly walked up to him.

"So…the high and mighty Bill Adama jumped into bed with the first woman he could after getting divorced. Didn't know you were desperate," She mocked, and Bill tensed. She was insulted and lashed out with as many cutting remarks as she could think of. He knew she was trying to push him to erupt back at her. It was routine. "Your heart is still mine," his ex hissed. Bill let his thumb move along the wedding band on his finger and thought of Laura.

"No," a firm one-word answer was all he needed. Before she could continue, Bill shook his head and moved toward Zak and Lee's bedroom. He entered their room, and his heart almost burst from the joy at seeing the two boys quietly reading and trying to ignore their parent's conversation.

"Ready to go boys?" He asked. Their excitement was clearly visible. His heart felt full when he saw the love and happiness his boys still had at his presence.

"Grab your bags and go wait by the door," he ordered kindly, and they quickly obeyed. As Bill followed them down the hallway to the front door, he spotted Carolanne waiting. He felt his face harden at her, when he thought of what Lee had told him. The abuse. These boys were their children and deserved better. He'd had his own part to play in their failure at parenthood, but she was in a league all on her own. He saw her narrowing her eyes at him, and the boys strafed out of the line of fire.

"Go out to the car," he told them, and they quickly escaped the house.

"We're not finished Bill," Carolanne snarled at him. "I don't want my sons getting attached to a woman who'll be gone by the end of the year."

"Excuse me?" Bill's stomach churned at the implication that Laura would leave him. His lingering insecurities over his ability to be a husband were dragged out from where he'd banished them.

"What do you think you can give this new wife of yours? You're never around. You don't know how to enjoy life. You never knew how to love. You'll frak up like you always do, and she'll be gone..." He breathed heavily, listening to her words and wondering how much truth was in her words. Bill was glad he'd had the boys leave. He was having trouble staying calm.

"I'm sorry for my part in why it didn't work out between us. But it's over. I'm going to do my best by both the boys and by Laura," he growled calmly. "Don't worry about us."

"I don't want someone who's practically a stranger around our kids!" She glared at him. "Unless you were seeing her while still married to me?" A series of emotions surged through him. How dare she. He thought. He'd never been the one with fidelity issues.

"If you are worried about Laura and the boys, you are welcome to meet her sometime," Bill snapped, but knew she didn't care enough to take him up on the offer. "I'll have the boys back on Friday at 4:00." Without waiting for a reply, he left.

As they drove a dark part of him thought of Carolanne's cutting remarks. His ex was angry and vindictive, but was there truth under the vitriol? At the end of the world he'd had something to offer Laura. He'd had the protection of his Battlestar. He'd had his position as co-leader of their fleet. He could even give her some books. Right now, he was a simple viper jock whose job meant he was away a lot. He enjoyed simple things like reading, boxing, and drinking with Saul Tigh. His wife, she practically radiated class and sophistication and was a rising politician.

"How does ice cream sound boys?" He asked pushing his dark thoughts to the side. They cheered at the idea, and he was feeling particularly indulgent. A bit of sugar always helped put the boys in a good mood, and he wanted them in an agreeable disposition for the talk they needed to have.

...

The Adama boys sat down in a booth at the ice cream shop. It was another surreal moment for Bill; his boys were so young. The last time he'd seen them, they'd been men. Now they were happily devouring waffle cones dipped in chocolate with sprinkles. Lee was no longer the man who'd help Laura lead humanity, now he was a kid with chocolate ice cream on his nose.

Bill's couldn't stop looking over Zak. His youngest boy was only ten years old and grinning at his family. He badgered his father with questions about where he'd been, and what he'd been doing. Bill responded by asking about how they'd been doing in school, and they talked about the latest pyramid games. Lee was going through his phase where he was obsessed with the C-Bucks like some of the other teenagers his age.

"I have something important to tell you boys," Bill began when the conversation lulled. In an ideal world, he'd have introduced this idea slowly and made sure they were comfortable. They looked at him curiously. "Can you promise to try and listen to me?"

"Is this about your new wife?" Lee asked, and Zak looked at him wide eyed.

"Yes actually."

"I heard you and mom," Lee shrugged looking down at his ice cream.

"I know it's a surprise, and it's OK if it takes time to get used to the idea," he said cautiously thinking of the childhood development tips Laura had given him. "I love her very much, and I think you boys will like her too."

"So, like you and mom were married?" Zak asked.

"Yes," Bill remembered that the boys hadn't minded the divorce as much as he thought they would.

"Will she yell at us?" Zak asked. Bill frowned.

"No."

"Is she pretty?" Zak fired off another question, and Bill chuckled. The priorities of a ten-year old's mind were interesting.

"Very."

"Is she trying to be our new mom? Or stepmom?" Lee challenged; his refused to look at his father. Bill heard the slight edge to his son's voice.

"I think she'd like trying to be friends first," he assured. Lee nodded slowly. Bill could see the wheels turning in his son's mind. He looked at both of his boys who were unusually quiet. They probably had no idea what to say. "Would you like to meet her?"

"Sure," Lee said hesitantly.

"When?" Zak asked.

"Today if you'd like. She thought it would be fun to go to the arcade," he had no idea what he'd do if the boys said they didn't want to meet her. But he knew there was only a very small chance they'd pass up the opportunity to go to play games. Zak immediately looked eager, and Lee wasn't opposed either. They nodded.

"I'm going to call her then," Bill said pulling out his phone. Mobile phones weren't allowed on Battlestars, or in critical areas of military compounds. He only carried one when planet-side. He quickly called up Laura's number and dialed it.

"Hi, how's it going?"

"Good, I hope. The boys and I were are hoping you'll join us."

"You at the ice cream shop still?" she asked. He hummed an affirmative. "Be there soon," she promised. While holding the phone to his ear, Bill noticed Lee had turned his body slightly so that his ear was turned closer to the phone. He was such an eavesdropper. He caught Lee's eye, and the boy knew he was caught. Lee shuffled back and bit, and Bill rolled his eyes. He hung up the call.

"Will she like us?" Lee finally asked nervously. Adama regarded his oldest son who still refused to meet his father's eyes.

"Leeland, look at me." The boy slowly met his eyes. "She'll love you. She'll love you both. I've told her all about you both, and she couldn't wait to meet you," he assured and spoke as soothingly as possible but noticed how they fidgeted. "It's OK to be nervous about meeting her. She's a little nervous about meeting you. But we're all going to go have fun tonight, but if you feel uncomfortable at all or aren't having fun just tell me," he reassured them. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of red hair come into the shop, and he waved her over.

Laura took in the sight of the two boys with her husband and smiled. She'd never seen Bill Adama in a mood she'd describe as giddy, but the thought of seeing his boys had him ecstatic all day.

Bill watched her bit her lip and raised an eyebrow. He'd watched her throw Cylons out airlocks with ease. She'd faced down Tom Zarek without flinching. She'd endured cancer treatments without killing Cottle. But, he had never seen her in a mood he'd describe as nervous.

"Hello," she greeted the boys warmly as she joined them at the table. "I'm Laura." She looked between the two boys. "You must be Lee," she said looking toward the older boy. Bill had to repress a sarcastic snort. Of course, she knew which one Lee was. "And you must be Zak," she smiled at the younger boy. Both boys grinned back and said hello.

...

Later that night Laura listened as Bill came into their bedroom and felt him slip beneath the covers. She immediately rolled over and moved into his waiting arms. They were so natural together. He tilted her chin up and kissed her.

"You were amazing today Laura, thank you," he in a voice thick with emotion. He was truly grateful for the clear effort she'd put forward with his sons and for how willing she was to have Zak and Lee around.

She smiled and thought of the evening they'd had. Bill's sons had tons of energy. They'd happily run about the arcade, with Bill and Laura trailing behind them arm in arm. Lee had insisted that his father play several shooter games with him, while Zak had tentatively asked Laura to race him. She'd laughed and agreed to play whatever game the boys wanted. What she'd missed was the wicked gleam in her husband's eye, and how he'd bent down to whisper into Zak's ear.

The next thing Laura knew she was being dragged over to some arcade vipers. She glanced at Bill who looked incredibly entertained. She narrowed her eyes at him, before turning and suggesting that Lee show his father who the real viper pilot in the family was. Lee proceeded to drag his dad along too.

"Think you can fly these Husker?" she asked him while eyeing the game. Surreal. This whole night was just one continuous surreal moment.

"Try to keep up Airlock," he taunted. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Airlock?"

"Madame Airlock actually according to my pilots," he assured. She rolled her eyes before moving over to the arcade vipers. Are we really doing this? She thought, but then Zak and Lee ordered them to join in the fun and soon the boys were happily shooting down Cylons. After a few rounds, Laura asked the boys to take a turn by themselves and stood to watch them a few steps away. She hadn't stopped smiling, but her eyes had dulled. Bill frowned and came to stand next to her.

"Memories," she muttered to him. Laura was grateful for the freedom to stand closer and rest her head on his shoulder while his arm wrapped around her waist. The Cylons in the game were from the first war, and they looked different enough from the Cylons of the second war, but they looked similar enough. The same chrome metal had glinted in the sun as Centurions came over the hill prepared to execute her by firing squad. She pushed the sudden panic down, but Bill noticed the faraway look in his wife's eyes and how her jaw tensed. He understood. The game hit too close to home.

Soon enough the boys tired out, and they were brought to Laura's house. Their house. Bill had already unpacked many of his things, and Lee and Zak noticed familiar items of their father around the space. A familiar blanket was tossed across the back of the couch. One of his model ships rested on the mantle of the fireplace. A favorite painting hung on the wall. There were even some pictures of the boys already around the house.

They'd shown the boys to what would be their rooms in this home. Laura kissed each boy on the forehead goodnight, and left Bill to spend a few extra minutes with them.

Bill's voice brought her back from reflecting on the day.

"I'm so happy at this second chance with them," he said as he laid in their bed, resting his head against Laura's.

"Can I ask you something Bill?" she asked. He hummed an affirmative. "I know we really didn't talk about Lee and Zak before we married. And…well…." She took a deep breath, pulling her thoughts together so she could articulate what she wanted to say. "What guess I mean to ask is this; I know Zak and Lee have their mother, and I'm not asking to replace her. But I'd like to genuinely try and be at least a real stepmother to them. If you're OK with that," she offered. Bill felt his heart skip a beat, and he wondered what he did to deserve the woman in his arms. Briefly, Carolanne's words flashed in his mind, but now was not the time to think about that.

"Of course. The boys are lucky to have you," he caressed her arm gently, "and so am I. We've come a long way from the end of the world in such a short time, haven't we?"

"So, you're still happy you married me?" she asked, lowering her eyes and fidgeting nervously. She couldn't stop thinking about the near fight they'd gotten into in the car.

"Never."

"And you're not going to get bored with our life now?"

"You're concerned I might, aren't you?" Bill asked not fooled by the forced lightness of her tone. He felt her body tense.

"Yes," she answered, trusting him with the truth. There was no unending barrage of chaos and crises to keep them distracted, or the end of the world forcing him together. She wondered what it would mean for them.

"You know I've had the same concern once or twice about you," he admitted. "But, to be honest, I need a break from excitement." Laura hummed her agreement at that sentiment. "We both need to communicate better," he pointed out and felt Laura nod her head. There were a lot of conversations they needed to have, moments of their journey they'd never had the time to deal with which still carried emotional wounds; New Caprica, Hera, Earth, and even her role in the prophesy. But they'd survived their first married fight, ex-partners, and arcade vipers.

They both thought of the future their lives now held. He hoped this time he could be the father his boys needed, and the husband she deserved. Meanwhile she hoped that she had the ability to be the mother she never thought she could be, and the wife she never thought she would be.

The moment would have been perfect, but in the back of both of their minds it was there; the nagging knowledge that they knew this wouldn't last. Maybe the Cylons come back, maybe they don't. But, for now we have a break.


	7. Sick Again

Saul Tigh swung a fist at Bill Adama. Saul had teased, needled, and outright provoked Bill for almost three months straight simply because he was pissed off because Bill hadn't mentioned that he was getting married (or that he was dating). Saul tended to cover his own irritation by grating on everyone else's nerves. Now, it was dance night on the Battlestar Universal, and Bill had tossed his tags into the mix. He needed to throw some therapeutic swings at his best friend.

Bill dodged the incoming blow. Beads of sweat glistened on their brows and dripped into their eyes. Vision blurred. Both men glared at the other. Taking a swing, Bill's punch smashed into the side of Saul's head, and the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. The boisterous cries of approval from the crew around them rang out - Saul hadn't been making any friends.

The match ended with Adama declared the victor. Saul glowered at him for a moment before thumping him on the back in brotherly affection. They stepped out of the ring, both wincing in pain.

"Lot of pain over a frakkin woman Bill," Saul muttered, pulling his gloves off and tossing them to the side.

"That frakkin woman is my wife," Bill growled yanking off his own gloves and expecting his friend to show a little more regard toward the woman he'd married. Hadn't he always extended Ellen a certain amount of respect?

"Wouldn't have gotten this worked up over Carolanne." Saul dabbed at the blood on the side of his mouth and hissed in pain. "Damn Bill! What is it about Laura?" Saul asked while holding up the bloody towel. Bill frowned.

"I love her," he said simply. "She makes life worth living. Without her..." Saul snorted at his friend's soft words, but saw how serious Bill was.

"Damn Bill," Saul repeated now quieter, shaking his head. "That's Laura for you?"

"Yea." Bill grabbed a towel and mopped some of the sweat up. "You know that's what Ellen is to you too," Bill replied, pushing Saul in Ellen's direction. Saul didn't have his memories, but maybe in this timeline he could help his friend realize how important Ellen was to him before something bad happened.

"You're growing soft Bill," Saul accused, and his friend paused and wondered how much truth there was behind his friend's accusation. Soft men didn't always make good soldiers.

….

Almost three months had passed in the new timeline. Laura and Bill had settled into their life, although there was still some stumbling they'd both done. It had taken time for Laura's health to truly settle in Bill's mind, and she'd finally had words with him about treating her as if she were glass. Meanwhile Laura struggled with being a stepmother until Bill told her to stop overthinking it. Both of them had spent much of their free time trying to plan for the future but they hadn't decided on their plan to help prevent the attacks. The lack of a foolproof solution troubled them, but it still a good life.

Laura listened to her husband's gentle snores and traced her fingers along the muscles of the protective arm he'd wrapped around her waist. They always sought each other out in sleep, and Laura felt safe and warm in his arms. He was the only man to ever evoke such feelings in her, but he was also the only person she'd allowed so close. Despite the peace his embrace provided, she felt the need for fresh air and carefully slipped out of their bed. Grabbing a warm wool blanket, she stepped out onto the balcony and settled herself in the chaise.

Caprica City's lights marred the beauty of the stars, but she still tried to look for their familiar sparkle. Eventually she sighed and turned her gaze to the ground. The feeble orange glow of streetlamps was too weak to tell her what lurked in the shadows of nighttime. Were there Cylons lurking out there in the dark just out of sight? She shivered despite the blanket as the cold night air seeped through. The hairs on the back of her neck began prickling, and she peered around the darkness. It felt like someone was watching her. She jumped slightly when the door behind her opened.

"Laura?" Bill's voice was thick with sleep, and he knelt next to her while reaching out to take her hand in his. "Laura, you're freezing cold!" he exclaimed when he felt her icy fingers.

"Been out here awhile," she sighed but smiled when she felt Bill take both her hands in his to warm them, alternating between blowing warm air on them and kissing the cold flesh.

"You should come inside before you get sick," he advised and was pleased she didn't argue. Instead, she pulled herself into a sitting position. Then he heard her groan and press a hand against her stomach. His whole body tensed and his brows knit in further concern. "What's wrong?"

"I think I might already be sick. I don't really know though," her voice was a raw whisper. A wave of dizziness and nausea had her in its grasp. She noticed Bill pressing a hand to her forehead. She knew she didn't have a fever. She didn't know what to say without worrying her husband any further.

"Honey, tell me whats going on," he urged, worried anyway. The endearment slipped from his lips as unease pooled in the pit of his stomach.

"I've been having trouble sleeping. Nightmares, visions, whatever," she murmured. Bill noticed her biting her lip before opening her mouth to continue speaking. "And... I've...I've been sick. Nauseous and tired all the time. It should have gone away already if it was the flu..."

"What else?" He could read her so well.

"My…breasts have been sore. Almost like…" She shivered in the night air. Slowly, she raised her eyes to look over at her husband and saw her fear reflected in his eyes. "It's too early to be cancer…right?" she asked in a shaky whisper, lying her fears bare to him.

"Have you seen a doctor?" Bill asked, he'd only just gotten home that afternoon. He tried to keep calm, but his nightmares were still plagued with cancer and death. Would the universe be cruel enough to take her away again so soon? They'd been so happy in these weeks together, and part of Bill still expected for it to come tumbling down around him.

"Not yet," she admitted and then a wave of nausea hit. She closed her eyes and willed it to pass. As she took deep breaths, Bill clutched her hand. "I know I need to go. I'm sorry about this."

"Don't be sorry, because it's not your fault. But, we are going in tomorrow. Together," he ordered, reigning in his fear. Bill wasn't taking any chances with Laura's health, not when the chance of a future with her was in his grasp.

She saw the compassion and love in his eyes, and it warmed her heart. She nodded her approval at the idea of visiting a doctor, knowing she couldn't argue with him. Or, maybe she could but she wouldn't, not after everything. Moaning softly, she leaned her head forward and willed herself not to be sick.

"I wonder if this timeline needs a dying leader too?" she asked sarcastically.

"Don't joke like that," he commanded. He never wanted to hear the words 'dying leader' again. "Let's just take tomorrow and the days after that as they come, like we always have."

"Is that your tactical advice?" She asked with a dry laugh.

"Yea, now come back to bed," he said gently. "You need to try and sleep."

"Alright," she acquiesced. Bill smiled and slipped his arms around her and lifted her up. She let out a gasp of surprise. "Bill!, What are you doing?"

"Taking care of my wife," he replied, crossing back into the house and laying her down on their bed. "I like it when she lets me do that." Laura huffed and rolled her eyes but snuggled up to him when he laid down next to her. In the dark, her thoughts turned to the diagnosis she feared the doctor would give her. Time was a luxury, and one they never seemed to have. With thoughts of mortality swirling in her mind, the need to tell her husband how she felt pressed on her.

"I love you so, so much Bill," she murmured pressing her face into the crook of his neck and breathing in his scent. "More than I ever thought it was possible to love another person. I need you to know that," she whispered in desperation.

He shut his eyes and let her words settle in his heart while body moulded against his warmed his body and spirit. He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "I have never loved anyone else the way I love you. I'll never be free of you, nor do I wanna be, for you are what I am. All that is, should always be," he whispered in a rich baritone voice. Laura giggled even as tears gathered in her eyes.

"Did you really just use a line from a murder mystery to explain how much you love me?"

"Yea, twice now technically."

"Gods, you're perfect," she sniffed and ran a hand through his thick wavy hair. "We've gotten to share so much Bill. More than most people do. No matter what happens, nothing will take that away from us. I feel so lucky having spent these last years of my life with you, and happy knowing I'll spend the rest of my time with you as well."

"You're worrying me, Laura..."

"I just want you to know. Whatever the doctor says tomorrow, I want you to know how I feel," she explained as tears slipped down her cheeks, but he gently wiped them away.

"I know," He promised and held her close. "Now we both need to stop thinking of the worst-case scenario and sleep Laura."

...

Cavil had declared war even if the humans didn't know it. The other Cylon models weren't even aware of his full intentions either. He wouldn't rest until humanity was beaten. Beaten. The word didn't encompass the full vindictive fury Cavil focused on the humans. He wanted them to destroy them. Perhaps, a little voice in his mind whispered, he was overreacting. Well, he probably was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! Pretty pretty please review!


	8. Worst Fears

When Laura was called into the back by a nurse she allowed Bill to follow; she wasn't answering a hundred questions he'd have later. In the other timeline, she'd allowed Cottle to break doctor-patient confidentiality with Bill so that her man had someone else to pester. As she walked through the office, the smell of antiseptic was overpowering with undercurrents of latex and rubbing alcohol. Her stomach clenched in protest and didn't relax even after the nurse had her sit on the examination table before leaving. Bill hovered close but not enough to smoother. Laura was a strong independent woman, and their marriage hadn't changed that.

The doctor entered and smiled in a cold, distant, and professional way before lightly asking what brought her in. She explained her symptoms as her body trembled and explained how her mother died of cancer a few years ago. The Doctor made notes in her file but reminded the couple that there were several possible explanations. Laura bit back a sarcastic laugh; how could she explain her knowledge of a future where she had very definitely died of breast cancer?

Routine tests were next; a light was flashed in her eyes, he listened to her heart, and her neck was examined. The common culprits were ruled out; flu, cold, and infection. The whole time Bill leaned against the wall behind Laura with his hands jammed into his jean pockets to keep him from fidgeting.

With the usual diagnoses eliminated, the doctor informed Laura that he was going to do a blood test next. She glanced at Bill who noticed her hands fidgeting in her lap. She'd been the same way on Galactica even with Cottle. So, just like back then he stepped closer and rested a hand on the small of her back in comfort just the way he knew she liked. Cottle always had a snarky remark for them, but this new doctor kept quiet. Once the blood was drawn he asked them to wait while he ran a few preliminary tests. He smiled reassuringly at the couple before leaving.

"How are you feeling?" Bill asked coming to stand in front of her and taking her fidgety hands in his. She closed her eyes and took a shaky breath.

"Nauseous…anxious. Honestly, I miss Jack. I miss everyone, but doc. Cottle especially right now." Bill audibly snorted at that.

"Still don't know how you two didn't end up killing each other," Bill admitted and shook his head.

"We became friends," she whispered with a sad smile. She'd genuinely come to appreciate the unique person Sherman 'Jack' Cottle was. Although, the lack of cigarette smoke in this doctor's office was nice. Her stomach wouldn't have handled the extra smell well.

"You might be the only person he actually respected."

"But you were his commanding officer," Laura countered.

"Chief Medical Officers never respect their Commanding Officer," Bill informed her, and Laura managed a small giggle. The moment of levity evaporated when the doctor came back in.

For a moment, time slowed and stretched out in front of Laura. She felt Bill beside her, the memories within her, and the future before her. She reached inside herself and found the iron will she'd developed. At times it had failed her, but she felt a surge of determination rush through her now. No matter what the doctor told them next, her choice was to survive as long as she could with courage, humor, strength, and grace. This was her second chance, and she'd make the most of the time she and Bill had together.

"Thank you for being patient," the doctor began. Laura bit back her immediate quip of, how long do I have? She couldn't let her sense of humor become too morbid. "You aren't sick, and I must offer you my congratulations," the doctor said.

The clock on the wall ticked a few seconds by, and Laura frowned at the doctor as she waited for him to continue.

"What's going on?" Laura asked barely keeping her voice from trembling. She forced herself to relax and remain calm. Bill felt himself holding his breath and frowning. The doctor looked between them and seemed surprised they hadn't worked it out.

"Dr. Roslin, you're pregnant."

Laura's breath caught in her throat, and she stared at the doctor. Then slowly, without even consciously thinking about it, one of her hands came to rest on her belly.

"Pregnant?" Laura asked, finding it hard to process. Her world seemed to spin around her, and she tried to focus her mind. She felt smooth cotton under the hand she'd placed on her stomach. For a moment she concentrated on the space under her hand as if trying to sense the life she'd just been told they'd created.

"I had a feeling, and the blood work confirmed it. The nausea, tiredness, and tender breasts are just normal symptoms. Now, I'd like to perform a sonogram to check on the baby's health and progress. Do you have some time right now? Our schedule is pretty light today," the doctor explained. Laura yanked her attention away from her midsection and back toward the physician.

"We have time," Laura found herself saying and then glanced at Bill. He looked dazed beside her, and she could hear how heavily he was breathing.

"Perfect," the doctor announced. "I'll come back with the machine in a minute," he said and slipped out the door again.

As soon as the door shut, Bill was reaching for Laura and pulling her into an embrace.

"You're OK! Pregnant," he breathed into her hair, closing his eyes and feeling relief rush through him followed by a jolt of electricity. A smile spread across his face, and he pulled back and held her by the arms looking her over. Her expression hadn't changed, and she had barely moved. One hand still rested on her stomach, but she may as well have been cut from stone.

He reached up to cup her face gently, and she finally leaned into his touch. "Are you OK?" he probed gently with concern.

"I…. I was convinced I was sick again. Not…" She whispered. "Gods...I didn't even realize this was possible...it's not something I've had to worry about for years," she explained in a shaky voice. After all, she'd been a cancer stricken, post-menopausal woman for long enough that children hadn't been a concern for a long time. Now this? Tears were forming in her eyes, and her body shook hard enough that she knew Bill noticed.

"Is this OK?" he asked trying to search Laura's eyes for a clue as to what was going on in her mind. Her reaction worried him.

"We didn't plan this! We didn't plan any of this! Marriage? Now a baby?" she panicked, looking down at her still flat stomach where her hand rested. "My Gods. Bill, our baby," she breathed, and her voice hitched. "Tell me this isn't a dream."

"This isn't a dream, Laura," he promised, his own voice raw. She finally looked up into his eyes, and he saw the smile starting to tug at her lips.

"Are you happy?" she asked nervously.

"Yes," he assured her and noted she was starting to relax. "It's our baby," he marveled reaching over and placing his hand on top of Laura's. Bill suddenly had a vivid image of Laura's body changing and swelling because his child grew inside of her. "Our child," he breathed.

A smile broke across Laura's face as she relaxed upon hearing her husband's acceptance. She gave a relieved giggle and a tear fell down her cheek. They didn't have time to say any more. The doctor came back in the room with the machine and kindly asked her to lie on the examination table. Laura grinned with tears in her eyes and did as she was asked. Now that the shock had begun to pass she couldn't stop smiling. Laura gripped her husband's hand as the doctor worked until the ultrasound appeared on the screen. She gasped at the sight and felt Bill squeeze her hand. She stared at the screen as the doctor pointed to the baby. He explained that it looked healthy but small which would explain why Laura wasn't showing even though he guessed she was almost three months along.

Laura had wanted to be a mother. She'd put it off, first because she was too young and had wanted to finish her PhD in education. After that her romantic life had been practically nonexistent, and she'd also taken on helping care of her dying mother. Then the death of her whole family had destroyed her world, and the fun loving, teasing, wild, and carefree Laura Roslin had died as well. She remembered the disaster date with Sean, and how after that she'd chosen to pour her heart into her work, withdrawing from other relationships. Her fling with Richard had been distracting, convenient, and safe; safe because Laura couldn't seem to risk anymore heartache after losing her whole family. Then Bill Adama, the grumpy and infuriatingly stubborn commander of humanity's last Battlestar, had helped her feel alive and learn to love again.

…

Laura concealed her pregnancy at work for weeks out of a desire for privacy. This particular news following her rushed marriage was like a goldmine to the office busybodies, and she wasn't in the mood to deal with adults gossiping like her teenage students had. One of the delightful aspects of winter was how acceptable it was to wear large cozy sweaters even though she'd normally have gone with stylish fitted blazers.

After tonight's soiree the rumor mill would have plenty of fodder, and Laura accepted there was no getting around it. She stood in front of the mirror looking at her reflection - her undeniably pregnant reflection. The evening dress of wine-red silk draped around her and hugged her curves, albeit a little more tightly than when she'd bought the dress two weeks ago. She wore no jewelry, but she didn't need to. She was glowing.

"Laura..." Bill gulped and froze mid stride into the room with her jacket in his hands. This wasn't the legendary Adama silence. He was genuinely speechless and Laura could count on one hand the times that had happened. Laura smiled shyly at him as their gazes locked in the mirror.

"You don't clean up so bad yourself," she teased, and he saw the twinkle in her eyes. "Dress uniform," she hummed. After putting one last pin in her hair which she'd swept into an elegant updo, she turned to look him up and down.

"You're incorrigible," he teased. She giggled and walked up to her husband. Giving him a wicked smirk, she leaned over and kissed the hell out of him. For a moment they shared the burning passion of a thousand fiery suns until she abruptly broke the kiss. Leaning in, her lips brushed against his ear.

"We should get going," she advised and nipped his ear but immediately pulled away. Grabbing her jacket from his hands, she swept out of the room. Tease, Bill groaned as she left him in her wake. He had never anticipated how very… wild Laura Roslin could be. He supposed his first clue should have been when the woman got him high and drunk on New Caprica. This teasing and playful Laura was still new feeling to him though, but his job meant he wasn't able to see as much of it as he would like.

Laura entered the living room with a grin on her face. Lee and Zak were watching TV and munching on popcorn. Every time Bill came home the boys begged to leave Carolanne's and come over as soon as possible. Laura and Bill were only too happy to acquiesce.

"What are you watching?"

"Captain Caprica," Lee replied. Laura chuckled; it was a typical action hero movie the boys favored. Caprica City's Director of Education had now watched far more action movies in the last few months with the boys than she had in her entire previous life.

"Remember you'll be able to see fireworks from the balcony in your father's and my room," she said, leaning over the back of the couch and pressing a kiss on top of both their heads.

"You're in charge, Lee," Bill added coming into the room while sparing a glare for his smiling wife. He ruffled the boy's hair affectionately before grabbing his own jacket. "We have our phones if you need anything."

"Yes, dad," Lee said tossing some more popcorn in his mouth.

"Zak, listen to your brother," Laura called as she reached the front door.

"Yes, mom," Zak said. Laura paused and looked at Zak, but he was absorbed in the show. Bill was also looking between his son and Laura.

"We love you both," he called before they left the house and got into the car. He looked at Laura's stunned face. "If he's comfortable calling you that, and you don't mind," Bill admitted with a shrug and began driving them to the Mayor's Mansion. Laura hummed and sat in the car quietly reflecting. She'd never been called 'mom' before, and she couldn't deny that it sounded good.

They pulled up to the mansion and a valet took the car. Bill came around and helped his wife up like a gentleman. Laura smiled, linked her arm in his, and began walking up the stairs to the ball. Bill wasn't used to events like this; he felt more comfortable in the middle of a Cylon battle to be honest.

Upon their arrival in the ballroom they were immediately greeted by Richard Adar who wore a perfectly tailored tux that could make any man look dashing. Laura preferred dress grays.

"Laura!" He greeted enthusiastically, his eyes on her face as she approached on Bill's arm.

"Hello Mr. Mayor," she greeted politely, Richard's gaze dropped to appreciate her dress and his eyes widened.

"Laura, you're…you look…" he stumbled over his words his usual polished eloquence failing him completely.

"Pregnant?" Laura offered with a small laugh.

"I would have said radiant," he recovered smoothly. Bill's eyes narrowed, and Laura rolled her eyes. Richard stepped forward and kissed her cheek. After pausing a moment Richard stepped to the side and offered Bill a handshake in greeting.

"Congratulations," he offered.

"Thank you," Bill replied politely.

"Won't it be hard being away so often? I hear you are going to be a career Fleeter."

"I hear you are going to be a career politician," Bill retorted. Laura suppressed a groan. Her husband had openly admitted to her that his version of diplomacy and political finesse might have contributed to him not receiving his Admiral stars until he was the only candidate left.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Maybe I'll even be President one day," he laughed. Charm and charisma practically oozed off the Mayor, and for a second Bill hated the knowledge that this man would indeed become President of the Colonies. "I expect you'll have a much easier time becoming the Commander of a Battlestar though." Bill resisted glowering; it's not like the Fleet handed Battlestars out to just anyone.

"You already have your eye on the Presidency Richard?" Laura asked.

"Shhh, only you know. Laura," he winked and grinned. Laura smiled politely and stepped closer to him letting go of Bill.

"Governor's election first, right?" she asked in a low voice, and he raised an intrigued eyebrow. How did Laura know he was planning on running for Governor? he wondered. Laura laughed at his expression and gestured toward a man in the distance. "Go talk to Jackson Delaney. You'll want him on your side and not your opponent's," she advised with a knowing smirk. Knowledge of the future, useful, she reflected. Richard stared at her in shock. How did she know who his opponent would be? Stepping back, Laura laced her arm through Bill's again and looked up at him with the kind of smile that made someone feel like they were the center of the universe. "Shall we?"

As they parted ways Richard glanced back to Laura, and admitted to himself that she looked exquisite. The pregnancy had shocked him, but she was still captivating. It was more than her physical beauty; something had changed in her. She was a real force to be reckoned with lately. There was a sense of inner strength and power she practically radiated now that drew people in and entrapped them. Politically, her instincts had been razor sharp these last few months. Richard would need to keep more of an eye on her. He wanted to keep her on his side. Besides, he still wanted her; Richard found himself incredibly drawn to the woman and swore that he'd find a way to have her.

"Thank you for not shooting him," Laura murmured to Bill as they headed in the other direction.

"Maybe one day," Bill replied and wasn't sure if he was joking or not. Laura gave a soft chuckle unsure if she minded either way.

"I have to talk to some people," she explained apologetically, but Bill nodded in understanding. Then he watched in amazement as Laura worked her way through the crowd. She charmed everyone. Political alliances were solidified. Colleague were greeted. Many offered their congratulations about the baby. Bill was trying very hard not to act like a proud peacock as the night wore on. After all, this enchanting woman was his wife and carrying his child. It made a man proud.

Sometime later he found himself also feeling like a fish out of water. Far too many people commented on how easy being a soldier during a time of peace must be, and it was insulting. Even more grating were the raised eyebrows at his Tauron last name, and the surprised looks people gave them after Laura introduced him. The subtle hints of racism and prejudice were clear. He was a military Tauron who'd married a political Caprican, and there were more than a few thinly veiled judgmental eyebrows raised at him. He was also a viper jock, and there were plenty of stereotypes about the 'bad-boys of the Fleet' to contend with. Bill tried not to feel the difference in his and Laura's worlds when conversations strayed to topics he was less familiar with. He was self educated for the most part, and he considered himself a cultured man, but these people had gone to places like the University of Delphi or the College of Dodona. He held himself tall and proud despite the crowd. Let them judge. He'd long ago stopped caring. He was touched that Laura herself was clearly pleased to be on his arm. She introduced him proudly and stayed close to him.

After politely moving on from another round of conversation, Laura sensed her husband could use a break and asked if he could go grab them some drinks. Watching him walk away, Laura smiled and leaned against a wall to rest. She was a professional at handling these events but being pregnant was putting a new and different strain on her body. She was tiring more easily.

"Laura! I have someone I'd like you to meet," Richard returned with a man trailing behind him, but she couldn't see who it was. "He's a brother at the Artemision with some fascinating ideas about Colonial religious education. I thought you'd enjoy talking to him," Richard gushed and leaned in to give her a quick private word. "And his order's support in coming elections you already know my plans for would be useful." Laura nodded almost imperceptibly as Richard moved back. The man stepped out from behind the mayor, and Laura almost gasped out loud. She couldn't fully suppress her automatic recoil. Before she could open her mouth, the man spoke.

"How about we dance while we talk?" the new man suggested with a friendly smile.

"She loves to dance," Richard agreed on her behalf. Laura tried to think of a reason to get away, but Richard was looking at her expectantly. She glanced around and tried to spot her husband but couldn't see him. So she smiled, acting the part of composed, practiced, and polished politician.

"My name's brother John Cavil," he greeted. Laura's skin crawled when Cylon reached out, took her hand in his, and led her onto the dance floor. But she didn't protest. When he placed his hand on her back and began to sway to the music with her, she tasted bile in back of her throat.

"I'm Laura Roslin," she said forcing herself not to tense. She stumbled as they danced.

"You seem nervous," Cavil observed with a concerned expression.

"It's just crowded," she gave him a short answer. In fact, the crowded dance floor felt like it was pressing in on her from all sides. She couldn't even hear the music, and it was all she could do to keep breathing.

"Well, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've been following you for a couple of months."

"Excuse me?" she breathed thinking of Doral.

"Your work Dr. Roslin," he covered smoothly. Laura nodded at him and looked over Cavil's shoulder again and again trying to find her husband in the crowd. "It shows how dedicated you are to protecting the best interests of the Colonies," he grinned while eyeing her as if looking for a particular response. Laura felt like a caged animal in a zoo being observed by a mad scientist.

"I do what I can," she replied. Oh Gods, her mind screamed.

"Well, the Mayor and I were talking. You know there is no formal religious education in place in Caprica City. It wouldn't be hard to implement you know." He grinned slyly up at her, and she forced herself to stare him back out. Show no fear. "Just...a small change right now can make all the difference to the future," he said. Laura swallowed.

"I'm sure it can. You know, part of my job is ensuring the future of the colonies. Education is so important. So, why don't you send me and my office your proposed ideas," Laura countered pointedly. Careful Laura, she thought, don't give him reason to suspect you know more than you should.

"Sounds fair. And, speaking of the future, congratulations. Marriage and a baby. I'm sure the future concerns you very much."

"It does," she promised looking him in the eye until he glanced away first. He didn't say anything else, and Laura glanced around again. Relief surged through her when she met a pair of blue eyes. Bill wove his way through the crowd with single minded purpose like a homing missile locked on a target. He reached them just as the song ended.

"I'm afraid I'm going to cut in now," Bill told the man and without waiting for a response, slipped between Cavil and Laura breaking their contact and putting his body between them. He stared down at the familiar face in his dark suit, waiting for the Cylon to move away.

"Of course," Brother Cavil replied. "It was nice to meet you Dr. Roslin," he said trying to peer around the stern Major who'd planted himself like a statue in front of Roslin.

"Brother Cavil," she nodded to him, and he moved off, disappearing in the crowd. After watching him leave, Bill placed a hand on the small of Laura's back and guided her off the floor.

"Are you alright?" he immediately asked as they moved away.

"Shaken."

"The baby?"

"Bill, we're both fine," she promised.

"What happened?" Bill asked, he was tense, coiled like a spring ready to explode. She told him about the conversation as they moved to a secluded corner.

"I couldn't tell if he remembered anything, but the innuendo was there. I think," she whispered while taking a deep breath. "What are we going to be able to do if Cavil remembers?"

"It comes down to this. We need help. Allies. You know I hate to admit this, but we need Adar's help," Bill sighed pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Adar?" Laura spat. Bill sighed. It felt like making a deal with the devil, but he repressed his irritation for the greater good.

"He's a moron, but he trusts you. As president he'll have the power to do more than you or I ever could on our own. You know that. He can prevent Baltar from creating the breach in the defense mainframe, build the military, even have agencies on the lookout for Cylon models like Cavil," Bill was the strategist laying down his plan. Laura looked him in the eye and saw enough certainty there. She nodded her agreement.

"We should have a backup plan though," she replied. For preventing the attacks, she had no better idea. She rubbed a hand on her stomach and tried to calm the jittery feeling in her nerves at seeing Cavil. She couldn't help but think of their child, and the future it might be facing. "Can you take me home?" Laura asked weary to the bone.

Bill was only too happy to help her escape from this place, not wanting his pregnant wife in the same place as Cavil. He was tempted to report the man to security as they left, but what was there he could say?

When they got home, the boys were passed out on the couch. Shaking her head Laura grabbed some blankets and tucked them around Zak and Lee. Bill watched Laura taking care of the boys and made a silent promise to himself. He was going to do whatever it took to keep them safe.

…

It took time and effort to insert a Cylon model into Colonial society. First they had to be smuggled across the armistice line and placed on one of the outer Colonies. Then documents needed to be forged and an identity created. It was a slow process and the cranky old cylon didn't have as many Cylon agents on the Colonies as he might like. He had to do much of the legwork he wanted done himself. So, he set himself up as a brother in the Artemision, a temple devoted to their fake goddess of the hunt. It seemed appropriate to pretend to be a devoted follower of the huntress.

First, he checked in on the Final Five. He was satisfied they had no memory of either their lives before he'd boxed their memories or the future he remembered. After reading the reports Doral had given to him, he'd decided to meet Roslin and Adama in person. The change in the timeline, their marriage, had intrigued him. After meeting Laura Roslin, he was convinced she knew the future, even if she pretended she didn't. If she did, she could prove to be a complication. She could use her knowledge to change the future, just as he planned to use his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A strange little chapter to be sure, but there's something about it I like. I have no beta, so give me grace with mistakes. Still shaking of the cobwebs from my writing skills.


	9. Down the Stairs

A viper cockpit would always be a second home to Bill Adama. His hands worked the controls like a pro, and he held his craft steady to watch the spectacle. The engines roared behind him, but they didn't muffle Saul Tigh's gruff voice from growling over the comms.

"Well nugget, that was some sweet flying. 'Specially liked the part where you got yourself killed," he yelped at the group of rook pilots training in front of him and Bill.

"Do it again," their CAG, Bill Adama, sighed. "This time try not to fly in a straight line after you've been targeted," he advised with just enough levity to counterbalance the barrage of cutting remarks from Tigh. Bill and Saul watched their group of nuggets take position for a second run through.

"No Starbuck in this group," Bill muttered.

"What's a Starbuck?" Saul asked, and Bill frowned. For all he'd gained in this life, there were still things he'd lost. People. Kara. The man Lee had become. He watched the vipers execute a flight pattern in front of him while the sun began peeking out from behind Picon in the distance.

For a moment, he remembered the first sunrise he'd experienced on Earth and a sharp pain pierced his heart. He could still picture the first daybreak at the ridge. He'd imagined the cabin he wanted to build. In his vision of the cabin, Laura was smiling and holding her hand out, inviting him to join her on their porch to watch the sunrise. But she'd faded, and he'd planned out the cabin knowing he'd be alone until he joined her in death. A lump formed in his throat as he remembered talking to her grave. I laid out the cabin today. It's gonna have an easterly view. You should see the light we get here. When the sun comes up from behind those mountains its almost heavenly. It reminds me of you...

"No points for second place, Jumpy!" Saul's snarled, and his voice broke Bill out of his reverie.

"Ease your thumb up off the turbo engine and work using your maneuvering thrusters," Bill advised, glancing at Saul out the side of his cockpit window. He found himself missing Saul Tigh too; his executive officer had shaped up into a respectable man. This man still had a lot of growing and learning to do.

Adama tried not to consider it a personal failing that he hadn't remembered all the names of his pilots when he'd awoken. It had been well over a decade since he'd been a CAG and lead these pilots personally. They'd all died or been dead by the time of the attacks. It was a sad realization.

"Your name is now Dizzy. I'd hope you're just dizzy since you can't seem to figure which way to go!" Saul groused at a nugget who was practically spinning around as he tried to find his wing-man.

"Don't worry Dizzy, at least you didn't end up with a name like Vice," Bill chimed in, and Saul's huff could clearly be heard along with the other pilots snickers. Bill chuckled too as he kept watch over the nuggets; the pilot family. It was a powerful bond those who braved the void of space together forged.

He'd save them. Their plan was solid. Richard Adar, once he was president, would be told his and Laura's whole story. He had the power to protect his people, more power than he and Laura would ever have on their own. Until then, they'd keep safe, and he'd prove to Laura and himself that he could be a good husband and a good father.

.…

After running the training exercises, Bill strode through the hallways toward one of the communication stations. It was late and the corridors were deserted. His mind whirled with sad thoughts of Earth, as he grabbed a phone and dialed.

"Hello?" A deep raspy voice answered his call.

"Laura!"

"Bill? What's wrong?" He relished hearing the rough, deep cadence of her sleepy voice. He must have woken her.

"I just wanted to call," he deflected. The roughness in her tone helped banish the uneasy feeling still lingering in his stomach after he'd been reminded of her grave.

"Oh, Bill," she breathed, and he heard the compassion laced through her tone. She understood. Of course. The woman always had an intuitive sense of what he thought, felt, and needed. "I'm here. I'm alive. I'm alright, and so is the baby."

"I know. I just…"

"We can't help what we fear and dream," she filled in for him.

"Have you always been able to read me so well?"

"Yes. You know one day I will die, Bill. That's part of living. We still have many years to come."

"I like the idea of years with you," he said and heard her chuckle over the phone.

"I think I like it when you flirt with me," she admitted, remembering the times he'd teased her during the journey. Once Colonial One had been damaged he'd shamelessly pointed out that she was welcome in one of his beds, and it was clear enough which bed he'd prefer her in. Without warning her laughter turned into a startled gasp.

"Laura?"

"The baby, I finally feel the baby moving!"

…

Life was stressful, chaotic, and crazy.

First, Bill was in space. Second, Laura was eight months pregnant. Third, Lee and Zak were staying at her house because Bill's ex, Carolanne, was missing. Her vanishing act had been discovered when the schools hadn't been able to contact her after the boys were sick during class. So, the nurses reached out to their stepmother, and Laura had dropped everything she was doing at work to rescue them.

Her body protested with cramps and fatigue at the stress of being pregnant and having two sick boys under her roof. They'd stayed with her over a day now. Laura was constantly checking on them, almost as if to prove she was ready to be a mother. She made chicken noodle soup, fetched water and soda, gave them medicine, and keep them entertained.

After dinner, Laura sent the boys upstairs to rest or read in their beds. They'd watched enough TV for a month. Laura was exhausted. The inevitable confrontation with Bill's ex hung over her head like a guillotine blade, only made worse by the fact she'd never had to interact with Carolanne on her own. She paced the kitchen, wondering if she should call the police. She'd called Carolanne's number a few times over the past 48 hours to no avail, but Lee said it was normal for her to disappear like this sometimes.

Laura felt a pang in her heart. She missed her husband, even though she knew they couldn't be together every day. She'd always known she was the kind of person who would love deeply, completely, and with her whole self. Their connection meant there was an unending longing to be together. Whatever they might want, they also had jobs to do and a future to consider.

Sighing, Laura crumpled down at the kitchen table and dropped her head onto the wooden surface. The baby kicking her stomach caused her to groan, and suddenly she was both laughing and crying at the whole situation. She was married to Bill Adama and carrying his child. She was taking care of Captain Apollo and his little brother while they were sick. They were actively trying to prevent Armageddon. What the actual frakkin' frak, she thought as a strangled hiccup at her tears and laughter. It felt like her body was being hit by a hurricane as she was wracked with sobs and laughter. She stayed collapsed at the table even after the hysterics passed. Her body was completely drained, but a hard knock rang through the house. Laura groaned. Carolanne, she thought and stood up from the table, taking a moment to stretch some of her knots away. She smoothed a hand over her sweatshirt and jeans, trying to look moderately put together.

"Coming!" she called out walking to the door. Laura would rather have high tea with Leoben than deal with the woman but felt remarkably levelheaded after her slight meltdown. She was able to suppress the hot flash of anger that wanted to surge through her and rip into Carolanne as she closed her hand around the cold metal doorknob. How irresponsible could she be? What if Zak and Lee had really been in trouble?

Squaring her shoulders and resting a protective hand on her belly, she opened the door. She nearly jumped in shock.

"Richard?! Wally?!" she exclaimed, looking between the two men in front of her. Her mouth hung open in surprise. She motioned them inside and closed the door. They wore well-tailored suits, and Laura could smell hints of wood, vanilla, and a tiny trace of smoke from cologne. It was intoxicating - raw and polished at the same time. In comparison to them, Laura was a mess. She took in their raised eyebrows and curious smirks. Then it hit her; she'd forgotten about the charity dinner tonight for the Museum of Science, and museums were under her jurisdiction as Director of Education. She was expected to attend and give a speech.

"Interesting choice of attire for tonight, Laura. You always stand out in a crowd, but I think you'll make quite a statement tonight," Richard teased. Laura rolled her eyes.

"We were supposed to pick you up, right?" Wally asked taking in her attire of jeans and a sweatshirt. Richard folded his arms and smirked; he decided he liked Laura in casual clothes. Her hair pulled back was nice too.

"Are you OK? What's going on?" he asked sympathetically at her stressed look. Laura sighed and rubbed her throbbing head which felt like someone had it in a vice.

"The condensed version? My stepsons have been home sick. Their mother is missing, and I need to stay home with them," she explained, looking apologetically at the two men. Richard nodded slowly, and Wally frowned. It took a moment for them to process.

"Their mother is missing?"

"I haven't been able to contact her," Laura growled and gave an exasperated shrug.

"Are you and junior are holding up?" Richard asked, and his concern was evident in his tone. Laura gave him a small smile. He was in an agreeable and considerate mood.

"Tired," she admitted. "I'm sorry about this."

"What about the speech you were going to give?" Wally asked.

"I'll give it. I don't think people will mind," Richard offered. Laura smiled gratefully at him. This was the kind and thoughtful Richard Adar who she was once good friends with, and it was nice to see this side of him again. It hadn't been as apparent since she'd rebuffed his affections.

"Give me a minute, and I'll find what I already wrote up," she said before heading to her office. The men nodded and waited by the door. They jumped when someone new pounded against the door.

"I'll get it," Richard called. He'd only opened the door only a few inches when an agitated blond woman pushed in. Richard recoiled from her.

"Where are they?" she demanded without preamble.

"Excuse us miss…?" Richard began. The blonde threw him a glare and stepped around him to march up to Laura who had just come back into the room. "Where are they?" she snapped with ice in her tone. Richard and Wally tensed. Laura froze but recovered quickly. She'd faced Cylons before after all.

"They're resting in bed upstairs, Carolanne," Laura explained calmly. Without warning, Carolanne shoved her way past Laura and marched up the stairs. Laura stumbled and was caught by Richard.

"I smelled alcohol on her breath," he mumbled in her ear. "Do you want me to come up too?" Laura closed her eyes and sighed but shook her head. If she could handle Baltar she could deal with Carolanne. Feeling the heat of irritation rise in her, she raised and followed Bill's ex. She had to take a deep breath at the top of the stairs; she didn't enjoy how easily winded she got nowadays. Your fault, she thought to the baby. As she approached Lee's room, she could hear his voice.

"Can we stay here mom? Dad will be here in a few days anyway." Laura's heart skipped at Bill's children wanting to stay with her. She slipped into the room.

"You'd rather stay here than come home?"

"This is home too."

"We should talk downstairs," Laura said in her most presidential tone to Carolanne. The woman slowly stood from Lee's bed and turned to look at Laura. Her eyes narrowed, and her hands formed into fists. A few seconds passed before Carolanne nodded and followed Laura out of the room. As soon as Lee's door was closed Carolanne turned her full wrath on Laura.

"They shouldn't even be here."

"They were sick, and you were missing," Laura snapped, walking toward the stairs. They'd reached the top of the flight of stairs when Carolanne grabbed Laura's wrist and yanked the woman back to face her. Laura braced a hand on the wall as she felt a momentary bit of dizziness.

"I'm taking them home, now," she commanded. Wally and Richard were both downstairs listening hard to the conversation. The men were ready to spring into action if Laura needed help.

"Not while you are drunk," Laura retorted, wrenching her arm away. She could now smell the alcohol herself. There was no way she'd let her stepsons, both of whom she'd come to love dearly, leave with their drunk mother. She stood firm and stared down the blonde woman.

"It's not your concern, and you don't have the legal right to stop me," Carolanne hissed and Laura recoiled. Damn, Laura thought. She's right. It didn't matter, Laura crossed her arms and raised her chin anyway.

"It's my job to keep children safe, especially Bill's," Laura pushed back. The offensive woman took a step closer to Laura whose heels were now at the edge of the stairs.

"You aren't their mother," Carolanne snapped, and Laura's heart ached. She'd always treated them as if they were her sons, but reality had just given her a firm slap to the face. "My sons come home now."

"When you are sober."

"I don't want my sons around either you or Bill any more than I'm forced to endure. Bill was enough of a frak-up as a husband and father when we were married. They shouldn't be forced to be here now."

"Forced? Are you really that shallow?" she hissed, knowing that the boys loved coming here.

"Frak you," Carolanne retaliated. Maybe it was the stress or the hormones, but Laura was not in the mood to deal with the woman anymore. She snapped.

"Get out of my house!" It was one of the few times in her life Laura had raised her voice. It cracked through the air leaving a dangerous silence in its wake. The men downstairs jumped in shock at Laura's yelling and looked at each other wide-eyed.

Laura didn't quite see what happened next, but she felt herself falling through the air. Something hit her back. She felt her head slam against something. Then nothing.

Wally and Richard were both edging toward the staircase already, curious, intrigued, and a bit intimidated at the fierce Laura Roslin they'd heard. The scared scream that pierced the air caused them both to bolt towards the sound. The sight that met them froze their blood. Richard's face contorted in fear and agony at the sight of Laura lying in a crumpled heap at the foot of the staircase. Her eyes were closed. A gash on her forehead let out a small crimson river of blood which ran down her face.

"Laura!" Richard was instantly at her side, confirming she had a pulse. "Wally, call the paramedics. Now!" he commanded in his Governor's voice while examining the woman he secretly loved. His heart raced. He dragged his eyes away and up the staircase to where Carolanne stood with her mouth hanging open. He glared daggers at her. His mouth twitched as expletives and insults barreled to the tip of his tongue, but his wrath was reigned in when two boys appeared.

"Laura!" Lee yelled as they both bolted down the stairs.

"Mom!" Zak screamed, falling at Laura's side. He moved to try to shake her awake, but Wally, having finished talking with paramedics, pulled him back along with Lee. They struggled against the unknown man who held them firm.

"We need to wait for the doctors to get here, they'll know how to help her OK? Go sit and wait for us on the couch." The boys stood there looking scared. "Now!" Wally ordered roughly.

"I want to stay with her," Zak pleaded and crocodile tears rolled down his cheeks.

"We can't have the doctor worrying about squishing you if you are in the way," Wally explained more gently as he ushered the boys over to the couch while Richard knelt over Laura. She looked deathly pale. A chill ran up his spine.

"Richard, call whoever you can to get Adama home fast," Wally ordered in a shaky voice. He knew his friend had no fondness for Bill Adama, but Laura was his friend too. He could tell she'd want, even need, her husband when she woke. Richard, although he hated the man Laura had chosen instead of him, immediately pulled out his phone and made the call.

...


	10. A Touch of Destiny

The Fleet allowed for humanitarian recall for medical emergencies, and Richard's contacts helped speed up Adama's return. He did it for Laura, despite the rage in his veins. Laura lay in a hospital, and Richard blamed Adama and his (now under arrest) ex-wife for her condition. In Richard's mind, she wouldn't be hospitalized if not for Adama.

Only a few hours after the incident, Bill was with the doctor standing outside Laura's room. It was one of the few times in his life he felt it hard to maintain his self-control. His pregnant wife was behind a door, and the doctor wasn't looking happy. He pulled his mental armor around himself as he squared off with the physician.

"My wife, how is she?" he demanded.

"She suffered some bruised ribs, bruising to the spine, and a concussion from the fall," the doctor said. Bill's stomach clenched, and the doctor continued. "She's regained consciousness and is in labor, sir. She's been asking for you," he explained, and Bill's eyes widened. He glanced at the door, wanting to be at her side. The doctor motioned for him to enter, and Bill surged forward. He paused with a hand on the door handle.

"Will she be alright?" Bill asked and held his breath.

"She should recover fully. Yes. But she is in pain, and labor is proving to be difficult. Just be there for her," the doctor assured him kindly. Bill took a deep breath and entered the room. The sight of her in the hospital bed caused his throat to constrict. Monitors beeped around her. Her head was thrown back on the pillows, and her chest heaved as she gasped for air. He was immediately at her side, reaching for one of her hands. She turned her head and smiled when she felt him.

"Bill!" her hoarse voice exclaimed. She clutched his hand, and her eyes lit up at his presence.

"I'm here, Laura," he said, pressing a kiss to her hand. He stared at her transfixed; a thin sheen of sweat covered her skin, and her hair was a tangled mess. She moaned in pain at a contraction.

"I'm glad you're here," she groaned, taking a shaky breath. Bill reached over and brushed her sweat matted hair out of her face. She tried to smile but gritted her teeth at the pain of another contraction instead. Her grip instinctively tightened on the hand she was holding. Her pains were so close together that it felt almost constant to her, and she was gasping and moaning at the feeling. She was not going to scream. Presidents, even if they were no longer presidents, did not scream in pain.

"Keep breathing," he soothed in a calm gravelly voice, wondering what he could do. He listened to her whimpered as another wave of contractions hit. He felt useless as he watched Laura brace herself against the pain again before collapsing on the pillow.

"It's been kind of crazy here recently," she whispered. "I'm worried about the boys."

"I'll take care of it. Don't worry about that now," he assured her. He felt horrible about everything she'd been through. Adar's words when he'd arrived at the hospital thundered in his mind. Why couldn't you just leave her alone?

"I think this is when I make a cliched joke about you never touching me again," Laura teased, and Bill chuckled at the spark of fiesty Roslin.

"You're almost ready," the Doctor reported, checking her over. He'd arrived just in time.

"Bill, I'm scared," Laura whispered. His eyes snapped down to his wife; she'd never admitted to being afraid so openly before. "What if we can't keep the baby safe?" she asked and groaned but suppressed the urge to scream against the pain. She kept his hand him a vice-like grip instead. "Something could happen to you or me."

"Don't talk like that," Bill urged. He reached over and cupped her cheek in his free hand and wiped the tears away with his thumb. "I'll protect you both," he promised, bending over to kiss her forehead. Laura caught the steel glint in his eye as he pulled back, and she knew that her husband would fight to the death to keep her and their children safe. She wrapped the feeling of being loved and protected around her, letting it comfort her.

"Don't ever leave me," she whispered as her painful labor broke the usual barriers she kept around her emotions and fears.

"Never," he promised her. He repeated it over and over until she nodded and sniffed back her tears.

"Not too much longer," the doctor assured her. Bill kept his gaze on her face. She looked exhausted, and Bill's heart ached her.

"We're going to meet our baby," she whispered after another contraction ebbed away, grasping the happy thought to soothe her frayed nerves.

"What will we name them?" he asked and felt the sting of tears. This was real.

"Liam. William Joseph Adama. After his father. The best man I've ever known," she decided, and her voice hitched with emotion.

"Ok," he agreed. How could he deny her?

"Evelyn…Evelyn Judith Adama for a girl," she gasped out. The names of their mothers.

"Time to push," the doctor ordered. Laura groaned but nodded and looked over at her husband. Their gazes locked, and she saw the complete faith he had in her.

"I love you," she whispered.

"Me too. So frakkin' much," he croaked out. He pressed another kiss to her hand.

Laura moaned at the pain that erupted in her body as she pushed. She felt her bruised ribs and spine protesting the further strain her body was enduring. She pushed again and again. To Laura, it felt like an eternity had passed. Finally, she collapsed against the pillows. Tears flowed down her face, mixing with sweat. Bill gently wiped it all away with a cool damp washcloth.

"I'm so tired," she rasped. Her voice was raw and strained.

"You can do this, Laura. You're the strongest woman I know," he encouraged, and she heard the honesty in his voice. She summoned what little strength and energy she had left for a final push. A scream was finally torn from her throat. It was enough.

The cries of a newborn child filled the room, and Laura collapsed on the pillows, spent. She craned her neck toward the sound of her child. The nurses cleaned the baby while Bill stayed with Laura, holding his exhausted wife while the doctor continued his work. A nurse carried the little bundle over, and Laura's whole world shrank to the tiny infant being placed in her arms.

"It's a boy," the nurse said. Bill took in the sight of Laura holding the newborn.

"Our son," he marveled, reaching out to wrap an arm around his family.

"Liam," she whispered reverently as she traced his features with a finger. She smiled down at him, before looking over at Bill who had the happiest grin on his face she'd ever seen. She leaned over and kissed him before resting against him while cradling her baby close. She was drained but elated all at once; she and Bill had a son.

...

She was dreaming. A vision. The same one. She stood on Colonial One watching Bill leave. As he left, Tory handed her a letter. As soon as the letter touched her hand the clanking started, deep in the bowels of Colonial One. It sounded mechanical. The metal clanged around her, and her mind screamed at her to hide. She needed to find something first. Frantic, she looked everywhere. Her throat was hoarse from yelling, but she couldn't hear what she was saying. She couldn't leave without finding it. The clanging got louder. Centurions surrounded her, and she was pressed against the wall. She screamed, and it faded to black.

"Have you read the Pythian Prophesy lately?" Elosha asked and her voice echoed around them.

"No, and I'll never read it again," Laura vowed vehemently.

"Everyone learns something new each time they read the Sacred Scrolls."

"Too bad. I'm done with destiny and prophesy," Laura said flatly; her life was not a game for Gods to play with anymore. She wanted nothing to do with Pythia or the Scrolls. She would not be the dying leader.

"You will always be their Prophet and their leader."

"This time I want to live."

...

She'd been dreaming. Her eyes fluttered open, squinting against the afternoon sunlight pouring into the room. The cradle in her bedroom, where she'd laid Liam down to sleep, instinctively drew her attention. It was empty. She sat up, groaning at the aches and pains her body issued in protest at the sudden movement. She relaxed at the sight of Bill coming over with their son nestled in his arms. Her husband wasn't a tall man, but he was broad shouldered and well-muscled; his frame dwarfed little Liam who looked impossibly tiny while sleeping in his father's arms.

"You get some rest?" he asked. Laura nodded but couldn't draw her eyes away from her baby. Bill chuckled and carefully handed the infant over.

"What?" she asked, snuggling Liam to her.

"You had the I-need-my-baby-back-now stare, and I know better than to argue with you."

"You know better than to argue?" she teased.

"For today," he amended with a grin, and she giggled. She enjoyed the banter they easily fell into. They could have incredibly deep and profound conversations, but she also loved their playful back and forth moments. Once a fun and even playful woman, that side of her had come alive again, and it seemed to delight her husband who had his own relaxed side he was rediscovering.

When Laura was given the all-clear to leave the doctor ordered her to take it easy because of the injured spine and ribs. Bill wouldn't let her lift anything but Liam, but he was smart enough to let her pick up her son. In their former lives, Bill could be described as protective, but it was nothing compared to how he was now. He hovered constantly. He wouldn't stop asking what he could get her, or if she was OK. She stayed patient, knowing this was what he needed.

"My Gods, Bill, can you believe it? Our son. After everything," she shuddered and couldn't continue past the emotion welling in her throat. Bill wrapped an arm around her. After everything, he still felt awe and wonder at seeing his very alive wife and their new son.

"You called me Admiral Atheist once, but I need you to know: this is my piece of the arrow. This life is my miracle," he admitted, knowing she'd been his miracle for a long time.

"We've changed so much," she reflected with wonder. It took a lot for Bill to be so open with her, and his admission stunned her. For her part, the ice water Saul Tigh had once suggested ran in her veins had now thawed. They sat together in quiet reflection until Laura noticed Liam waking up and his little mouth moving. On instinct, she unbuttoned her shirt and brought him to her breast.

Laura settled back against the headboard of the bed, doing her best not to jostle Liam. Bill was about to try to help her, but she shot him a scathing look. She did her best to tolerate his neurosis because of the lingering trauma he harbored at her death, but she was alive, healthy, and fully capable of sitting up by herself. She would always be independent. Bill threw his hands up in surrender.

"How are the boys?" Laura asked, changing the subject. Bill sighed and felt his jaw tense. It had been a crazy storm of events. Because of what happened to Laura, an official report had been filed in case she wanted to press charges against Carolanne for assault. Child Protective Services had also been notified when evidence of parental negligence was uncovered. Bill had been dragged into meetings with officers and service workers. Full custody of the boys had been temporarily shifted to him while his ex-wife was investigated.

"They're feeling better," he assured her. "They're actually on their best behavior in the hopes they can get better and say hi to their brother."

"How are you doing?" she asked, watching him rub a weary hand across his face.

"I forgot how intense it all is," he admitted.

"You've gotten less sleep than I have. Between traveling back and taking care of all of us..." Bill heard the concern in her voice.

"Laura, I'm fine. Don't worry about anything but you and Liam right now. Please," he urged. The urge to protest welled up in her, but she batted it down. Instead, she nodded. He'd been through so much that she wouldn't begrudge his instinct to protect and take care of them.

"Yes, sir," she teased with a raised eyebrow. "But, you'd better not be like this your whole paternity leave," she warned. Despite his job with the Fleet, he was able to come home more than she'd first assumed would be the case. It was still only for short breaks of time. His paternity leave on the other hand would give them the chance to live together for an extended period as a normal couple. As a family. The idea of that sent a pleasant thrill through her body.

"I promise to read to you if, or when, you get annoyed with me," he assured with a grin.

"No gruesome mysteries until he's older," she laughed, handing him the baby to burp. "Is this really how we are going to be now? When we aren't trying to avoid the apocalypse, we're going to be sickeningly sweet in our domesticity?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye and no small amount of sass.

"Maybe," he grinned.

For the next three months, they reveled in being a husband and wife. They'd laughed hysterically when tax time came around, joking at something so normal feeling so bizarre to them. Laura had laid down the law with his drinking habits (although it hadn't been a problem in this timeline yet). Bill had proved to be a surprisingly good handyman around the house, although seeing the commanding officer of humanity's last Battlestar fixing the kitchen sink had been jarring to Laura. Obstacles abounded, but they built a life, embracing even the little things like fixing sinks, taxes, and rocking babies to sleep. Their marriage had been forged in the fire of an apocalypse and living back on the colonies was different, but they faced every challenge with the knowledge of how much worse life could be.

Their life had its rough moments. Maybe if it had just been Liam they were adjusting to it might have been easier. Little things kept throwing a wrench in their lives. Carolanne missed her court date, so Child Protective Services assigned full parental custody of Zak and Lee to them. Three kids were suddenly under one roof. Liam wouldn't sleep through the night. Bill and Laura were reminded of the time the Cylons kept finding them every 33 minutes and they were exhausted beyond belief. In their spare time they'd begun compiling the report they'd one day give to Richard Adar after he was sworn into office. They continued to adjust and adapt until the day came and Bill's leave was up.

...

John Cavil, Cylon Model One, was irritated and not hiding it. His brothers and sisters had demanded that he report directly to Cylon Command Center. He just arrived back from the Colonies, but instead of rushing to them, Cavil meandered through the metal corridors of the Cylon Colony Ship as if taking a stroll through the woods. He was lost in thought. It would have been oh so easy to snap Roslin's neck. He hadn't. His pragmatic side had won over his sadistic side; he didn't need his face to become infamous for killing a pregnant member of the government.

When he'd determined that he was fashionably late enough, he appeared in the doorway to the Command Center. He stayed in the shadows, which was easy enough. Cylon ships were not designed with optimal lighting. He wondered which member of the Final Five had influenced the Cylon preference toward darkness and the color red. Tory, he thought. His mother was too irritatingly…bubbly…to appreciate the dark. She'd have painted the Centurions pink if left to her own devices.

He gazed at his brothers and sisters, here and now gloriously untouched by their time among humans…yet. No betrayals. No rebellions. Red lights surrounded the assembled models, pulsing in a steady rhythm. He listened to them talk and almost groaned out loud at their naivete, at their belief that nothing could fall outside their calculations. His damn mother had allowed so many flaws to exist within their programming- all in the name of personality. Personality prevented perfection.

"They murder one another," Simon reported as they discussed the humans.

"Rob."

"Rape," D'Anna hissed and Cavil remembered hearing about one of her models having an unfortunate accident in an ally.

"Their sins are too many to count," Leoben stated and Cavil sneered at him from the doorway.

"Their children are raised in their image and doomed to commit the same sins as their parents."

"So, we are agreed?"

"The human race must be eliminated."

"So that our own children may live in peace free from sin."

"It's too risky to slip past the armistice line right now, the patrols have increased."

"Looking for a reason to attack," his own model spat out. He felt a surge of pride toward his model at recognizing the human's depraved desire for war.

"We must not engage them until we are ready"

"Brother," Six said, turning to look at him.

"Your behavior has been erratic," D'Anna pushed. That's funny coming from you, Cavil thought with a hint of frown.

"I have my reasons," Cavil stated, shrugging his shoulders: a nonchalant gesture to show how very little he cared about their opinion.

"There was no reason to have me follow the woman. She is insignificant," Doral remarked.

"One day she'll be President of the Colonies," he promised.

"You still believe you've seen the future," Leoben sat up straighter and met Cavil's gaze.

"More than just the glimpses you think you see," Cavil sneered.

"How?" Six asked.

"I found an artifact, which, unfortunately, I no longer have," Future Cavil reported. He thought of the little orb he'd used, but after using it to reset the timeline the artifact was lost.

"So, you have no proof," D'Anna reclined back in her chair with a raised eyebrow. Cavil resisted the urge to grind his jaw in irritation.

"My word should be proof enough," Cavil spat. The Cylons on the council exchanged glances. "Guess not. What if I bring back some proof? Hmmm? Some show and tell for the class?"


	11. It’s a Quiet Life, But It’s Our Life

9 Years Before the Fall

The men and women of the Battleship Valkyrie stood at attention while their stoic XO went from being Colonel Adama to Commander Adama. Executive officers of Battlestars were supposed to be tough and hard, but Adama had balanced the need to be a mean XO with his warm heart. It earned him the respect, loyalty, and devotion of the crew.

One man in the crowd remained aloof. No smile graced his old face in support for his XO; he didn't really do smiles. In fact, his tolerance for these silly rituals was nonexistent, and so his face remained impassive. He couldn't suppress his double take when a familiar face appeared in the crowd. Laura.

During the promotion ceremony, the unsmiling man snuck glances at Laura every few minutes. With how many times he glanced in her direction, it was inevitable that their eyes would meet. When their gazes locked, his heart stopped. He saw it; the flash of recognition in her eyes, and he realized that Laura had memories of another time too. Of a future that hadn't happened.

As the ceremony continued, he felt the back of his eyes warm when the realization hit him; Laura was here as Bill Adama's wife. They had found each other in the past. His throat choked with emotion at that. He'd witnessed their pain and heartbreak as she slipped away from cancer. He'd seen them love each other as her time drew to a close. He'd been overwhelmed at the grace she maintained in her passing.

The moment that pierced his icy heart the most came when he saw a little boy, who was unmistakably their son, reach up and grab Laura's hand. His eyes did fill with tears then, and he tilted his chin up unwilling to let them fall. That certainly wouldn't have helped the carefully crafted image he maintained. After the promotion ceremony he practically ran away; he damn well wasn't going to break down crying for the first time ever on this rickety barge in front of this half-witted crew.

Laura had caught the same flash of recognition in the man's eyes. Her joy conflicted with her fear. Neither she nor Bill had seen a single sign of their previous lives for years. Their family had lived in peace. Now she was afraid of who else might remember their other lives.

She sighed and thought back on their years of peace.

15 Years Before the Fall

On their first wedding anniversary Bill came home and surprised his wife by asking her out on a traditional date. She had laughed, realizing that they'd never gone on one before getting married.

He explained that on Tauron paper was the traditional gift for first anniversaries. She teased him about being the romantic one out of the two of them. She gasped in pleasure when he revealed they were going to an antique bookstore.

"I know you, Laura," he said, smirking at her delight.

"You really do, Bill."

Walking into the store, the first thing they noticed was the smell. The musty aroma of old books permeated the store; hints of vanilla and almond wove together. It was like an aphrodisiac for the mind. They had each taken a deep breath when they entered and smiled at each other.

"Guess you love the smell of old books too," he remarked.

"It comes from an organic compound in the pages of books which breaks down over time and releases the smell," Laura murmured, blushing when she realized how like a schoolteacher she sounded. She bit her lip. "It is good. Isn't it?"

He tilted her chin up, so she looked into his eyes. "Where would any of us be without teachers? I like that side of you," he assured her while staring into her eyes. He wanted her to know that he was telling the truth. He placed a chaste kiss on her lips before grabbing her hand to tug her along. Her heart warmed with affirmation at his assurance that he appreciated a vital part of who she was. She grinned; he hadn't appreciated her schoolteacher side when she ascended to the Presidency.

They tucked themselves into the mystery section of the store and began their mission. Somewhere in those shelves that held their favorite genre was a book waiting to be read by them. They were determined to find it and took turns reading the backs of the books; laughing together at some particularly bad blurbs. The one they decided to read together Laura ended up finding on the top shelf. She'd had to tell him the title several times to get his attention; her husband had gotten distracted staring at her lithe form while she stood on her tiptoes and stretched out to reach the book.

It had been so enjoyable that they both agreed to keep going on dates. It was wonderfully normal for them, and they felt peace at knowing they had adjusted to a quieter life.

…

14 Years Before the Fall

Saul Tigh hopped out of his viper after shoving the post-flight checklist into the waiting NCO's hands. He unzipped his flight suit with a groan, glowering at the deckhands who walked too close. Most of the deckhands knew to steer clear of viper jocks who'd just pulled a double CAP shift.

"Twelve frakkin' hours in that seat," Saul muttered to his friend who fell in step with him as they both headed to the showers. He clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes at the various deckhands who happened to look his way.

"Wasn't too bad," Bill shrugged with a grin.

"Not too bad? Are you out of your Gods damn mind?" Saul growled but noticed his friend's good mood. "Ohhhhh, you are out of your mind. You can't think of anything but getting home to see your girl today," Saul taunted, rolling his eyes as Bill's grin widened but reticent man refused to reply.

"Lucky bastard," Saul muttered. He'd met Laura a handful of times but didn't much care for her. She was too polished and polite. He wondered how the hell his best friend had managed to score himself an actual lady. They moved through the corridors, and Saul couldn't resist needling his friend.

"Your wife gonna be excited to see you?" he probed, and Bill could hear the unasked questions in Saul's voice. He thought back to all the times he'd come home; Laura always spent his first night back writhing underneath him.

"She's always excited," Bill assured his friend as they reached the showers. He'd discovered that it was nice to be married and come home to a loving and insatiable redheaded wife.

His devotion to the military had once overshadowed his private life. He'd been able to claim the respect of those who served with him, but his real family had never been a priority. It was a bitter regret that now ebbed away as he tried to be a husband and father. He wasn't going to settle for anything less than giving his children and Laura the priority they deserved. So far, he had no complaints.

They'd settled into their quieter life and made it their own.

…

13 Years Before the Fall

She ran her hands over the grooves that made the letters of each name engraved on the marble. Sandra Roslin, Cheryl Roslin, Judith Roslin, Edward Roslin.

"I miss you, so, so, so much," she whispered to the graves. Fresh flowers rested against each of the headstones. She had loved her family wholeheartedly, and it had broken her in many ways to lose them. All the times she'd needed advice from her parents or wanted a sister to talk to - Laura went through those moments alone. No one could fill the hole that their absence had left; her heart would always hold their empty places as sacred.

Bill stood behind her, supporting his wife as best he could. It had taken her years to tell him about the drunk driver who'd killed her family. He wrapped his arms around her when she stood, and he noticed her body shaking and the tears running down her cheeks. She leaned heavily against him and sobbed her heart out.

"I miss them," she croaked.

"You loved them, very much."

"I did. And now there's no one left from my family. I'm the only one." Her eyes ached from the tears she'd cried. He rubbed her back as soothingly as he could. She rested her head against his chest and let him support and care for her. "Our son is the only child from his generation in my family. The only grandchild or great grandchild. There are no other Roslins left. He should be running around with his cousin, Cheryl's kid. Instead… It's not fair."

"No, it's not."

"I wish my parents and my sisters could be here too. They'd have loved you. Mom and Dad would have been thrilled I found someone who makes me happy. My sisters would have teased us mercilessly," she said, smiling through her tears. Bill had only seen pictures, but the three women that smiled from the photos radiated love, mischief, and happiness. He'd have loved to see Laura with her sisters and the trouble they would have caused.

"They live on in your memory," he murmured.

He drove her home in silence after she'd finished paying her respects. Once they'd returned home, she'd simply sat down on the couch and watched their young son play on the floor with his blocks. Bill wrapped her in his arms, and she nestled into his embrace.

He let the silence stretch and looked around their space. Books he'd collected were mixed with hers now. Laura's paperwork was scattered on various surfaces, and her shoes were discarded in the middle of the floor. Family pictures of the two of them together and of their kids were now displayed on various surfaces.

"I never thought I'd have a family again after I lost my parents and sisters," she whispered. "We were a makeshift family on Galactica, but it feels like we've lost them too. We won't even get to see them again. Not really. After all, I've gone to Lee's parent teacher-conference meetings. I've sent him to his room. He'll never be the same young man, Captain Apollo, who I met all those years ago. What will Starbuck be like in the changed timeline?" Laura sighed.

"Sometimes, I feel guilty we have this second chance and others don't," she admitted, looking down at her hands.

"This was out of our control. Best we can do is use this chance and change what we can. Kara shouldn't have been haunted by Zak's death. Dualla… Billy… they deserved better," he sighed and held Laura tighter. "And, I shouldn't have had to live on after watching my wife die just as we reached Earth."

"It will be different now."

They'd settled into their lives, but they remembered.

…

12 Years Before the Fall

It's almost always the same when he comes home; Laura patiently waits until the boys have hugged their father. Then he turns to her and their eyes meet. The air always becomes practically electric. After a moment, he breaks the silence.

"Missed you," he rasps as he reaches out to grasp her shoulders.

"Me too," she murmurs as he pulls her into a warm embrace. Every time she sighs as a surge of contentment warms her; it's like coming home. She always wraps her arms around him, and then buries her face in his neck. They simply enjoy being together for a moment. Then he hears it. "I love you," she whispers next to his ear before pulling back to look at the happiness in his eyes.

"About time." He still says it and tries not to smirk. When they pull back, he watches her smile; it's the one she only gives him, filled with love, happiness, joy, and relief.

They'd settled into their lives and were happy.

….

12 Years Before the Fall

Laura Roslin knew Lee Adama could pull some stupid stunts. She'd watched him make some questionable life choices in the previous timeline. Apparently, it was a trend he started as a teenager.

She had come to love him like a son in the alternate future despite his shenanigans. Now, in this timeline she loved him as her son. Carolanne had disappeared from his life and, while Lee never called her mom, he was willing to let her fill that void. The problem was her son could be a complete idiot when he wanted to be.

Lee had snuck out last night. Thinking himself clever, he had made sure to come home before Laura was supposed to be awake. But she knew. She also knew Bill would be home later that day.

When Lee got home from school, Laura was ready. She looked up and smiled at the teenager from where she had been reading a report on the couch. The tone she summoned struck a balance between motherly and presidential.

"Did you have fun last night?" she asked and watched Lee's face fall. Busted. She held up a hand before he could respond. "Your father is waiting for you in his study." Sometimes, those words seemed to be the only thing that scared the boy. He hung his head and his shoulders slumped. Laura watched him head back to the study door and take several deep breaths before knocking.

After that, Lee never snuck out again.

It wasn't always a quiet life, but it could be so much fun when it wasn't.

….

11 Years Before the Fall

It was a summer weekend, and the smell of fresh cut grass wafted through the air from the open windows. Their kids' laughter could be heard from outside. They were out of school and Lee was enjoying his last summer of freedom before he'd join the Colonial Fleet. He was being a good big brother and kicking a ball outside with Liam and Zak. Laura smiled at their antics, sipped her morning tea, and read over reports from her school districts.

The sound of a pen dropping on the table caught her attention, and she looked over at her husband. He pinched the bridge of his nose. A pile of correspondences lay on the table in front of him. There was a tense set to his jaw, and he groaned before picking up the pen again. He wasn't a social person by nature, but keeping up with contacts, friends, comrades, and allies could one day prove useful. Laura sensed more than his distaste for socialization in his mood.

"You going to tell me what's on your mind?" she probed. His eyes snapped over to her, and he tugged on his ear as he mulled over what to say.

"A conversation I once had with Chief," he said vaguely.

"And?" she pushed, raising an eyebrow and taking a sip of tea. She waited for a more complete answer. He sighed.

"He talked about how no one ended up with the person they really wanted in the other timeline. We made do with who the Cylons left alive," he explained, furrowing bis brows.

"I can see why he'd think that," she admitted; it was what it was.

"Is that what happened to us? Are we only together because the end of the world forced us together?" he asked, staring at his hands and avoiding her gaze. The atmosphere tensed.

"Are you really asking me this?" she sighed, thinking of her own moments where she'd wondered if they'd work as a normal couple.

"What would have happened if we'd met on Caprica?" he asked.

"Why ask? We met on Galactica. That's where we fell in love. The reality is that the second I awoke in this time you were the only one I could think about. How could you ever question us?"

"I've just been thinking..."

"Well, that's dangerous," she quipped, and he shot her a look. "What brought this on, Bill? Was I the best of limited options for you then, and now you feel stuck with me?" she asked, and her voice shook. Her body felt cold.

"No! Don't ever think that, Laura," he exclaimed, reaching out to cover her hand.

"What's going on then?" she asked after taking a relieved breath.

"I realized something. I've known you longer in this timeline. In the time we've known each other, we've been married longer than we haven't. Sometimes I just can't quite believe it. And you are still here willingly," he explained, laying his own insecurities bare for her. Laura sighed and shook her head.

"We belong together," she said, picking up her mug and standing. "But you have a point. We've never really stopped and asked why we felt the way we did. The world had ended, and I was dying; it was what it was," she explained and leaned over to kiss the top of his head. "I've told you, you're the best man I've ever known. If you really need to know, I chose you and stayed with you because you're kind and thoughtful. Smart. We can talk about anything. There can be such a formal and composed air around you, but it can't quite hide how compassionate and warm you really are. You're fierce and unbelievably loyal. I feel safe with you. I like how you care for people and care for me. So, Mr. Tactician, do you feel better having the facts?" she teased but her eyes were serious.

"Yea," he rasped, trying not to let his voice break from emotion. It wasn't just the end of the world and their quest to change the future forcing them together. She'd just made that clear. He heard Laura walk into the kitchen, and he took a deep breath before standing to follow her. He watched her get more tea before coming up behind her to wrap his arms around her in an embrace. "You know I might have one or two things to say to you in response," he said, kissing her cheek.

"You don't have to, Bill. Telling people how you feel isn't your forte. But if you'd like to try, it would make up for that ridiculous question you asked me," she hummed, giving him an out. She leaned back against his solid frame, and enjoyed how they fit together.

"Your legs," he began, and Laura snorted out a laugh. "Your taste in books," he continued, keeping it lighthearted for the moment. "The glint you get in your eye when being playful and mischievous." He took her tea and turned her to face him. "How frakkin' stubborn as hell you are." She raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him, and he grinned before continuing: "how dedicated you are. Smart, although it would be nice if I was right for a change. You're pragmatic but warm and stronger than anyone I've ever met. What's not to love, Laura?" he finished and his gravelly voice sent a shiver down her spine.

"So, we've been married that long?" she marveled looking into his eyes. They both smiled.

They'd settled into their life, but sometimes it was still unbelievable.

…

10 Years before the Fall

Laura was standing in her office at home; torn cards and broken pencils scattered all around her feet. Listening to her muttering as she practiced parts of her committee meeting testimony, Bill sat smirking in an armchair off to the side. He held a pencil out and ready in one hand, but also had a book propped open on his lap. A half empty pencil box sat on the table next to him along with his half empty glass of ambrosia. Both jumped when a piercing whine shattered their concentration.

"Mommmmmm! Can you help? This math homework makes no sense," Zak begged, trudging in and glaring at a piece of paper in his hands. They could see frustration in his scrunched-up face. Laura giggled suddenly. Then another. When she tried to suppress the almost inevitable third giggle, it ended up sputtering out anyways.

"Giggles, always at the weirdest times," Bill muttered. Zak was looking between his parents. "Try and think of something serious," Bill ordered.

"Like what?" she asked through giggles.

"Math?" Zak offered. His answer only caused both of his parents to snort with laughter.

"I'll be right there, Zak," Laura managed to wheeze out. She took a deep breath and followed him to the living room. The coffee table was scattered with his papers. It still felt quiet with Lee gone. He was now a student at War College. Zak showed her the problem, and Laura began carefully explaining how to solve it.

Meanwhile, Bill leaned in the doorway and watched them. They'd become a happy family, and Laura was a wonderful mother. Nowadays, it came more naturally to think of her as an educator, mother, and wife than to remember her as the President.

It was a quiet life, and it was their life.

….

9 Years Before the Fall

He was being promoted. Commander.

Crewmen stood at attention around the CIC of the Battlestar Valkyrie, the magnificent and shiny modern warship. Adama stood in the center of CIC with his retiring Commanding Officer standing off to his right side. He'd be replacing him. Laura, Liam, Zak, and Lee stood off to his left. Saul hung close by too. Bill tried to keep his face somewhat stern, but the sight of his proud wife and grinning kids wasn't helping.

They'd been in this timeline for many years now. He'd learned that he could be the man he always wanted to be. He was a loving husband and devoted father. He adored his family, and they adored him back. There were days that fact alone still shocked him.

Being part of the military wasn't easy, and it took sacrifice. The reality of being constantly separated from Laura and the boys was rough. Wearing the uniform and protecting the future meant a price was paid. He did his best to balance his life, and Laura was understanding. His spitfire of a wife was also quite willing to let him know when he needed to think about what he was doing. There had been more than a few hushed arguments between husband and wife behind closed doors. They had their flaws, but they were happy. A testament to his growth as a husband and father was the fact that there had been no family present when he'd been promoted to Commander in the previous timeline. This time, they had all come. He forced himself to stop glancing at his glowing wife who'd worn his favorite dress. Instead, he turned his attention to what the old Commander was saying.

"…confidence in the patriotism, integrity, and qualities of Colonel William Adama. In view of the demonstrated potential and aforementioned qualities, William Adama is hereby promoted to the permanent grade of Commander in the Colonial Fleet."

Laura was asked to step forward; the spouse of a military officer could pin the new rank insignia on their partner during promotion ceremonies. He stayed at attention while she reached up and pulled his Colonel's pins off. Her hands grazed his neck, and she smiled up into his eyes. She handed the small tokens to Zak before turning and accepting the new rank pins from his CO. She carefully affixed one to each side of his uniform jacket before pressing a quick chaste kiss to his mouth. Get promoted, kiss Laura, he thought. It was tradition now. Maybe he'd try to make Admiral in this timeline. Motivation. Also, greater access to Fleet resources and a more important voice. Apocalypse.

"Congratulations, Commander Adama," his CO beamed and they exchanged salutes. Cheers broke out around the ship. Officers moved to shake his hand and offer their congratulations.

Meanwhile, Laura searched for the pair of familiar eyes she had spotted. She sighed. It had been a quiet life. But now there was someone else who knew about the future. If one other person knew about the future, she couldn't help but wonder how many there were who knew.


	12. It’s a Quiet Life, Until Someone Jacks it up

Laura was spending the night in Bill's cabin on the Battlestar Valkyrie. In the morning, a Raptor would return her, Zak, and Liam home.

She gazed at her face in the mirror of the head in Bill's cabin. There was a slight flush to her cheeks from the single ambrosia she'd indulged in during the party the Valkyrie crew had thrown in their newly promoted commander's honor.

After a few hours, they left the younger crew to party and returned to his cabin. Unsettled, Laura had paced around and around until retreating to the head. Was it the smell of recycled air or lingering taste of ambrosia? she wondered. She stood, bracing herself against the sink; the cold metal caused a chill to seep into her hands and up her arms. A face appeared beside her in the glass, frowning in concern.

"I never thought I'd stand on another Battlestar after Galactica," she whispered. "Actually, when I boarded the Raptor and left Galactica for the last time I was certain I'd never stand again," she admitted. Bill closed the distance between them and rested his hands on her shoulders. The warmth from his hands pushed back against the chill overtaking her body.

"You used up all your remaining strength on that last mission," he said, remembering the mix of pride and sorrow he'd felt when he saw her walking onto the hangar deck. His woman, who shouldn't have had the strength to leave Life Station, had somehow joined them to fight the Cylons through her sheer willpower alone. Even at death's door, she was a force to be reckoned with; her fire and determination had sparked something deep and profound within the ranks of humanity during their last battle. Laura Roslin was like a wild spark of fire; it could set whole armies ablaze. Throw in an Adama speech, and the people had rallied behind the two leaders of humanity.

"Couldn't let you fly off without me."

"You inspired a lot of people. Made people believe that we could win through our tenacity alone." Laura pursed her lips and shook her head.

"I was good at making people believe in almost anything." Bill was taken aback by her dark tone. Her head hung in shame and her body shivered. "Even when they shouldn't have listened to me, I made them believe, and I ended up being wrong about so much. I lead them to a damn nuclear wasteland. After that I was so tired, I almost completely gave up, and that disappointed a lot of people. I just couldn't…" she sniffed. Bill twisted her around in his arms to face him and pressed a finger to her lips to silence her. He could still picture her sitting on the floor burning the Pythian Prophesy as if it had happened yesterday; he'd been unable to reach her then. He'd let her push him away. Never again.

"Laura, you were stronger than any other person could have been. You lead the fleet to its new home through a thousand impossible situations. You and I had the weight of humanity on our shoulders, and that was damn heavy sometimes. But, in the end we found a beautiful planet for our people," he growled, hoping she would hear him. The memories of Earth and their last raptor ride which he'd buried rose to the surface; it had years since her death, but he could still feel the pain of it rip through him like a knife.

"Kara found Earth."

"But you lead us there. You." She shook her head, and Bill frowned. "Laura, give me your eyes," he commanded, having heard her anguish over the final months of their journey more than a few times. He hated that she still tortured herself over her moments of weakness, and it was time to put those demons to rest. Enough was enough. Patiently, he stared at her, waiting for her eyes to meet his. Knowing Bill wasn't going to back down, she gave a heavy sigh and returned her husband's gaze. His blue eyes bore into hers with an intensity that left her speechless.

"Listen to me," he demanded. "You were the woman who gathered a fleet together so that humanity even had a chance of survival. You convinced me to run so we could live to fight another day. You were someone people trusted enough to rally around on New Caprica. You gave people a government and listened to what they had to say. You put up with the everyday crap of running that government; made sure rations were distributed and supplies were shared." He took a deep breath. "You kept me going," he admitted, and reached up with both of his hands to cup her face. "You might have been the dying leader to some, but you were definitely President Laura Roslin to everyone — someone strove to be best leader possible. The people knew that in their hearts."

"Bill…" she tried to protest, but he was having none of it.

"Your strength carried us for years, and in the end the people did still trust and follow you."

"But I made…"

"No, Laura. No," he snapped. "Yes, we both made some mistakes. Fine. But we found peace at the end. Let's focus on that alright?" he pushed. "It's time to leave the past in the past." He searched her eyes and listened for any more protest. He let out the breath he was holding when the corner of her lip twitched up in a small smile.

"So say we all?"

"So say we all," he agreed and leaned forward to kiss her tenderly on the lips. He felt her hands tangle in his hair as she clung to him. Maybe he's right, she thought. When they broke apart, he was pleased to see that she looked more relaxed. Maybe she's finally listening, he thought. He decided to change the subject.

"You know," he rasped against her skin as he kissed her neck, "it has been entirely too long since I've had a pretty girl in my rack…" Laura let out a barely dignified snort of laughter.

"Smooth Adama. Real smooth." She playfully kissed his nose. "Just remember, our son is asleep on the couch, so keep your hands to yourself," she teased and chuckled when he started pouting. She shook her head but stepped forward and slipped her arms around him. He gladly returned his wife's embrace.

"Thank you for talking," she murmured, enjoying being held in his arms. It seemed so long ago, the times when she had a hard time communicating with this stubborn man. He had been gruff and reserved. To be fair, he was still gruff and reserved, but now she could read his silences and his expressions as if he'd spoken what he was thinking aloud.

A knock on the hatch caused them to jump. Laura dropped her head to Bill's shoulder and chuckled.

"Of course. Battlestar interruptions. Fond memories of those," she said and grinned at him. "I should check on Liam anyway." Laura slipped away and moved over to the couch where her son had been laid down to sleep earlier. They had decided to trust Lee and Zak with guest quarters down the hall even though Zak was still a minor and had they both had slightly problematic penchant for mischief and mayhem. Meanwhile Bill walked over to the hatch and opened it.

….

The man from the promotion ceremony walked down the corridor to Adama's quarters. He'd wandered the entire route around the ship twice deep in thought.

He needed answers. For a month, he'd been assaulted by new memories every time he woke up. It had been gradual at first; vivid dreams that lingered when he woke. This gave way to an entire life unfolding in his mind. It got progressively more intense until one day he'd woken up with a violent jolt and could still smell the tang of blood in the air. Days later, he'd woken in a cold sweat and hadn't wanted to move for an hour as the sound of gunfire and the clang of Cylon Centurions lingered in his mind.

He'd wondered if he was going mad. Adama and Tigh seemed unaffected. They were the only ones from Galactica stationed with him. Despite the memories, his life was unfolding the same way. He tried to keep calm and stay sane.

After seeing Laura at the promotion ceremony, he'd left and paced the ship. He had questions; she and Adama probably had answers. So, he walked to his new CO's cabin. Rolling his neck and shoulders and standing up to his full height, he knocked. After a moment, the hatch swung open.

"Sherman," Commander Adama greeted with a curious expression. The doctor knew he was an unexpected guest. The Commander gestured for the doctor to come in.

"Sorry to bother you," Cottle grunted as he stepped into Adama's cabin. He looked around and spotted Laura. Cottle's heart froze when their eyes met. "I was actually hoping to speak with both you and your wife," he said, keeping her gaze.

"Oh?" Laura asked, moving over. Jack couldn't stop staring into her Virgon jade green eyes. It felt like he'd just seen them yesterday, but there was so much life sparkling there now.

He'd respected her. She'd annoyed him, irritated him, and provoked him. He'd lectured her, infuriated her, and told her off more than once. It was a match made on Galactica; he'd become completely devoted to her.

"I wanted to see if we'd ever met before. You remind me of a woman I once treated for breast cancer," he growled. Let's see if you take the bait, Sherman 'Jack' Cottle thought. He almost broke out in a cold sweat, but then a slow smile spread across Laura's face.

"That's funny. You remind me of a doctor who gave a dying woman enough time to live. To really live. He was a good friend, despite cigarettes and grumbling. It didn't hide his big heart," Laura smiled. Sherman Cottle let out a gruff snort, his version of a laugh, before taking a few steps closer to Laura.

"Young Lady?" he asked, noting that the name now seemed quite appropriate.

"Jack," she greeted. Laura looked him over; same ol' Cottle. But when she met his eyes the shock hit her. A tear was running down his face. He glared at her.

"Fifty frakkin' years and I have never cried over a patient," he huffed and wiped his face. "What frakkin' magic do you weave over people?"

"How about some ambrosia and a talk between old friends?" Bill suggested. Cottle nodded and dropped into a chair at the table while Bill walked over to get the drinks. The medic rubbed a hand over his face as he remembered all the briefings and conversations had behind cabin doors over a glass of ambrosia with these two. They'd discussed fleet welfare, hybrid children, cancer, and even torture. Weird had become part of their jobs and their conversations.

Laura was moving to sit down by Cottle when movement caught her eye from the couch.

"Mommy?" A sweet soft voice broke through the air from the little boy who was sitting up. Laura quickly changed direction and moved over to him. Cottle watched her whisper to the child as she adjusted the blankets around him. She smiled and brushed his curly brown hair to the side before leaning forward to kiss his forehead. Cottle was captivated by the scene, and another tear slid down his face which he quickly brushed away.

The quiet clink of a glass being set down drew his attention back to the table and Commander Adama.

"So, you found your girl and married her," Cottle snorted. "How frakkin' romantic." The doctor put just the right amount of sarcasm in his tone to keep up his pretense of being the irritable doctor. Bill chuckled in response. Cottle huffed and snatched up the proffered glass of ambrosia. On the first sip he reveled in the way it slid across his tongue and burned a path down his throat. It wasn't good ambrosia unless it burned on the way down and caused warmth to radiate through the body; this was good ambrosia. You could tell a lot about your standing with someone based on the quality of liquor offered; Adama really liked him. Cottle rolled his eyes and nodded over to Laura and the boy. "How old is he?"

"Six," Bill said, taking a sip of his own ambrosia.

"So, you must have remembered what happened for a while," Cottle deduced.

"Almost seven years," Bill replied with a nod. Cottle almost snorted with laughter but didn't want to upset the boy Laura was hushing back to sleep.

"You two didn't waste any time, did you?" Cottle sent Adama a wicked smirk.

"Not this time," Bill said and Cottle's face fell. He knew why they wouldn't have wasted any time.

"Bill, I'm sorry. I really thought..." Cottle trailed off and hung his head, "I really thought it was gone. Maybe if I'd tested her more often or…"

"Let's not go there," Bill advised, not wanting to relive the memories.

"I understand. You both know, there are options even now. Preventative surgery? I have a specialist friend…"

"Jack." Laura's soft voice cut him off as she sat down and joined them. "Whatever you recommend I'll do. But let's discuss it later, alright?"

"You will? Just like that?" Jack pulled back slightly and looked her over. "No argument? You a Cylon now young lady?"

"Wife and mother. I'd like to see my son become an adult and retire with my husband. I'd already been planning on speaking to the doctors," she said. Years ago during a dark moment, Laura worked out the math. If she didn't take preventative action against the cancer, then Liam would be just sixteen when she died. No parent should have to bury a child, but it was still tragic for a son to lose his mother while still a boy.

"I need a cigarette," Cottle muttered. "So, you both remember everything?" he asked, and they nodded. Relief also surged between the three of them; relief that another friend remembered. The three of them sat there talking about how each of them had awoken with their memories. Laura and Bill told Cottle about the Cylon models they'd seen in this timeline. They laughed quietly over happy memories and sorrowfully reminisced over sadder times.

Cottle agreed with their plan to tell Adar about the future they'd experienced. He knew it was lucky they had Laura and her friendship with the future president to exploit. When he became the President of the Colonies, he could order Battlestars to de-network their computers. Baltar would never get a contract to upgrade (compromise) the defense mainframe. He could prepare the military. So, Cottle agreed to serve as a third voice when Laura and Bill told Adar about the coming future. It would add more credibility.

He agreed with their need to have a backup plan. There were medications he'd run out of. Patients had been lost despite having curable conditions. He just didn't have the medicine resources which would have saved lives. Resources had been scarce. That was an experience he didn't want to relive: losing patients he shouldn't have lost.

Thus, Cottle joined the dangerous part of the backup plan for humanity. If the attacks weren't averted, they'd be prepared even if they couldn't save everyone. Cottle would start requisitioning extra medical supplies to stockpile. With several years of preparation ahead of them, there were plenty of opportunities for the good doctor to get his hands on resources and medications. It would have to be a careful process, the last thing they needed was him or Adama brought up on charges for fraud.

Finally, early in the morning the doctor left the cabin after he'd agreed to keep in touch with Laura. He'd given her the name of a doctor to see and asked her to keep him up to date. Laura was touched by his concern, and gasped when he took her hand in his and kissed her hand just as he had all those years ago.

…

Bill and Laura laid down to try and get a few hours of sleep. The narrow rack forced them to press closely together, but they didn't mind. Even with the comforting warmth of their partner, they couldn't be soothed into sleep. There was too much to think about.

"Bill?" Laura asked, and he hummed sleepily to let her know he was listening. "We know the timeline has…reset, for lack of a better word, at least once now. What if we have led these lives over and over? There could be lives we've lived and forgotten," she mused, and felt Bill's grip tighten around her waist.

"It's possible. Your scriptures say, 'all this has happened before, and all this will happen again.' If that's the case, I don't know if there's anything we can do," he sighed, and felt Laura pressing herself closer to him.

"Bill, what about Liam? He's here because we remembered each other from our future. I'm worried things could reset, and we forget each other. I'd lose you and my baby," she realized and her voice broke slightly. She felt fear wrap her icy grip around her heart. "I can't lose my family. Not again," she whimpered, clinging to her husband like a lifeline.

"I wish there was something I could do or say," he replied, and his voice sounded like rough gravel as he considered her words. Losing his family was his worst fear. He buried his face in Laura's hair and held her close. This was still their reality and there was comfort in that.

"Did you ever notice how many coincidences there were? The final five happened to be in our fleet. Two were our right-hand men. And how did the Cylons happen to have their agents strategically placed where they did? I saw the look in Cavil's eye when we met, he remembers. What if there are Cylons like him who remembered another timeline?"

"It's like fighting an uphill battle," Bill groused.

"'All this has happened before, and all this will happen again.' Something caused us to remember what happened before," Laura said. Bill kissed her forehead as she shuddered against him. What caused them to remember? They'd been asking that question for years.

"Whatever games fate or the so-called Gods are playing with us, I promise to fight to stay with you. Ok? I'll never be free of you."

"Quoting books to me again? You do know how to make me feel better," she said, and he felt her smile against his skin as she nuzzled his neck.

"You came into my thoughts. You filled them. It felt good."

…..

To say that Future Cavil was frustrated was the understatement of the century. He was confined to the Cylon Colony ship. Apparently, his behavior was considered too 'erratic' for the other models to let him out of sight. So, he waited, like a rabid dog on a leash. He waited for a moment when his handlers weren't paying attention. He had a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Let me know if the plot ever gets confusing or wonky - time travel isn't always logical.


	13. It’s A Quiet Life; Until It Rains

Laura loved water: the sound, the feel, and even the smell. Maybe that's why her dream cabin always had a lake next to it and why a thunderstorm never failed to put a smile on her face. Some of her earliest memories were of curling up on her father's lap and watching lightning split the sky. She waited on the balcony off her bedroom looking at the sky, needing a reason to smile. A warm hand came to gently rest on the small of her back, letting her know she wasn't alone.

"I smell rain coming," she explained to Bill. He looked up at the clear blue sky and decided not to point out the obvious lack of rain clouds. He was more concerned with his wife's distant gaze and slumped shoulders. She fiddled with her silver bracelet absentmindedly. "I'm glad you were able to come home," she admitted.

"Wasn't taking 'no' for an answer," he replied but frowned. He nearly hadn't been able to get leave to come back and support Laura before and after her surgery. The fact that he couldn't always be physically present for his family was the hardest part of their life together.

"I wish I could stop overthinking for one afternoon. I know the doctor said that with this surgery, it will be almost impossible for the cancer to develop, but it's still possible," she whispered, taking a deep breath. She took a deep breath and smelled rain again. "I keep thinking of the press conference after everyone learned the cancer came back. One of the reporters asked me how long I had to live."

"You should have told her to go take a walk out an airlock. What kind of person even asks that?" Bill huffed, and Laura chuckled.

"Thank the Gods you had me to deal with the press," she muttered. They'd had more than one fight over the metaphorical fires she'd had to put out after he'd said the wrong thing to the press.

"You made dealing with them look easy. How was anyone supposed to know how hard it really was?" She chuckled, but the light didn't reach her eyes. He slipped an arm around her. "Laura…the surgery will work. We are going to have many more years together."

She hummed but didn't reply. She wanted all the time she could get with him. They'd had a good life together. The first clinking sound of raindrops splashing down could be heard. The sound grew louder and heavier.

"More years of you being right," he muttered, and his joke pulled a small giggle from her as he dragged her inside. In the distance, thunder rolled over Caprica City.

…

At the hospital the next day, the anesthesia put her right to sleep.

She hadn't expected dreams to haunt her while she was under. Opening her eyes, she knew she stood in a vision. Galactica was deserted. She shuddered; this cold deserted perversion wasn't how she wanted to remember her old home. She walked through the corridors until finding herself in sickbay.

Another Laura was lying in a bed surrounded by Bill, Starbuck, and Apollo. Laura remembered Elosha showing her this in a vision. Grief surrounded the group like a thick cloud; Apollo's distant stare, Starbuck's trembling chin, and Bill's slumped shoulders. Laura watched the children walk away, giving Bill the last few moments alone with the dying woman. The heart rate monitors flat-lined, and Adama leaned forward to place a last kiss on her lips. Pain was etched on every bit of his face while he took his wedding ring off and placed it on the dead woman's finger. Tears sprang to Laura's eyes, and she ran a reassuring thumb along her own wedding band.

Everything blurred around her, and the scene changed. She was on a raptor right behind the pilot and copilot seats. Pink birds flew in every direction below the ship. The end of her previous life, she realized. Bill was flying the raptor and her old self sat next to him, wrapped in a red tartan blanket.

"So much life," she whispered, and her hand slowly fell. Laura pressed a hand to her aching chest and watched. Bill stopped speaking and clutched her counterpart's wrist in a desperate attempt to find a pulse that he knew was no longer there. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the realization cross his face that she was dead. She'd never seen him look so devastated. Her heart physically ached when she saw him pull his old wedding ring off and slip it on her finger. As the cries of a heartbroken man filled the raptor, she looked down at her right hand where his old band still adorned her finger, long ago resized. Tears ran down her cheeks as she listened to him promise to build their cabin. She longed to take him in her arms and promise him that everything would be alright; he'd find her again.

The scene changed once more. She was on a Cylon Basestar where a raptor was landing. Bill climbed out, but her counterpart wasn't there to greet him this time. This scene was new to Laura. Karl Agathon waited instead with a sad look in his eyes and asked for the Admiral to follow him. Laura followed behind as Bill was led through the Cylon Basestar and into a room where another Laura was lying on a cot. Her breathing was rough and labored. Bill rushed to her side, taking her hand. The dying woman opened her eyes and smiled when she saw Bill.

"Missed you," she croaked, her voice hoarse and faint.

"Missed you too," he replied, and she gave him a weak smile before her eyes fluttered closed. She let out a raspy breath, but no more came after that.

"I love you," Bill whispered in a cracked voice, kissing her hand. His tears fell on the woman's skin, but she didn't stir. "Rest now. You rest." He pulled the ring off his hand and slipped it onto her finger.

My Gods, Laura thought. She recoiled as more scenes played out in front of her; the observation deck, the CIC after their last battle, in his quarters. She watched herself die over and over having never stood on Earth. Each time, Bill slid his ring on her finger, but she was never his wife. A voice echoed around her.

"All this has happened before," an old man's rasp filled the air. Laura looked down and found herself holding a glowing orb. The importance of the object permeated every fiber of her being until Laura awoke in her hospital room. The procedure had been successful.

….

Richard Adar had just announced his candidacy for office. He declared his intention to be the next President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol. Adoring fans had cheered him on, and the cameras had gone wild. Adar was a popular man and played the crowd like a master. After consulting with his aides, who handed him favorable poll report upon favorable poll report, he found his way to Laura's office. He knocked and immediately entered.

"You know the first thing I am going to do when I am President of the Twelve Colonies?" Richard asked, striding into the room with a confident swagger. He removed his jacket and helped himself to the drinks cart. Grinning at the woman behind the desk, who looked up at him over her glasses and raised an eyebrow, he raised his glass in a silent toast.

"*When* you become President?" Laura's tone was light and teasing, calling him out on his presumptuousness. She also made it sound like she might not care one way or the other if he was elected or not, and Richard found her lack of simpering deference almost intoxicating. His popularity had caused him to become accustomed to people fawning over him; except for Laura. He strode over to her desk and stood over her. His height forced her to tilt her chin up to look at him. She almost laughed at his power pose and was clearly not impressed.

"When, yes *when*, I become President," he repeated leaning onto her desk. "The first thing I am going to do is appoint you Secretary of Education," he promised. He took another sip of his drink and waited for her reaction. He wanted to see her exclamation of gratitude at his generosity. She gave him a pretty little laugh instead.

"Whatever you say…Mr. President," she teased, rolling her eyes and then continuing to work. Her day had been all about playing catch up after her medical leave. He reached over and took her chin in his hand and forced her to look back up at him.

"When I am President you are going to have to learn some respect you know," he murmured to her. His eyes burned intently into hers.

"You know I respect you," she commented lightly.

"Maybe in public. But, in private I never get the right response from you, never the one I want," she pulled away from him, looked down, and reached for a folder on her desk. She walked a fine line with Richard, building friendship and trust in preparation for the day they'd reveal the future to him. But he never stopped flirting with her and made his desire for her plain. Laura knew the firm telling off Richard deserved could irreparably damage the relationship, so she tolerated the man and his advances.

"We could do such great things together," he murmured, "for the good of the Colonies," he added. He was always toeing the professional line. Laura ignored him, reaching past him to grab a pen from its holder. Richard's eyes followed her movements as she worked.

"Have a drink with me Laura? Celebrate your return to the office and my candidacy?" he invited. "Just a quick drink between friends."

Before she got a chance to respond another person knocked on her door and entered. Richard gave an audible sigh but didn't immediately move away when he saw Bill Adama entering the room. Instead he leveled a gaze at the man, as if daring the Commander to comment on his presence or his proximity to Laura.

"The wayward husband returns," Adar proclaimed. Laura ignored Richard and stood, moving around her desk and towards Bill. Grateful for her husband's presence, she placed her hands on his chest and stood on her toes to kiss him in greeting, knowing Richard was glowering somewhere behind her.

"Dropped by to check on you. The Doctor told you to take it easy on your first day back," Bill murmured to her.

"It's only been paperwork today, Bill," she tried to assure him, but caught the hard look he gave her. "Let me finish up here," she acquiesced and turned her attention back to the other man in the room. "Richard you should go. Johnathan Burr is about to announce his candidacy. You and your aides should be ready," she said and with that began moving around the office, wrapping up her day.

Richard bristled at his obvious dismissal and the ease with which it was delivered. He nearly growled out loud in frustration at the fact that he'd been about to take Laura out for a drink until Bill Adama showed up. Instead, he pulled himself up to his full height, scooped up his jacket and began to leave. Then, he stopped next to Bill and whispered in a low voice.

"You know, I would never leave my wife while she's recovering from surgery," he hissed.

"Military doesn't always get the same luxuries you civilians do. I do my duty," Bill snipped back.

"To the Fleet or to Laura?" Richard asked but didn't give Bill the chance to reply. He strode out the door instead.

Bill shook his head and clenched his fists before taking a deep calming breath. He wouldn't let that moron get to him. He mentally assured himself that he wasn't making the same mistakes of his other life and turned to Laura. She was zipping up her bag and hadn't heard the conversation between the two men. She looked up at him and smiled.

"Take me home?" she asked, and Bill was only too happy to comply.

…..

Saul Tigh, the newly promoted XO of the Battlestar Valkyrie, muttered and swore from the floor next to Commander Adama. They'd been thrown clean off their feet during the last barrage of attacks. Sparks reigned down around them as consoles protested their power surges. Metal groaned against the incoming fire slamming into the sides of the ship.

In the air around them sweat and adrenaline mixed with smoke; the smell of battle. Men and women raced around CIC, their bodies slamming into consoles and colliding with one another as the ship lurched with each hit. Reports were shouted over the sound of shattering glass and blaring alarms. Many officers had expressions of fear. Theirs wasn't a world of battle after battle after battle. The constant combat Adama had once known was not their reality.

Adama pulled himself to his feet and stood tall at the head of the tactical table in CIC. He eyed the DRADIS screen and calmly issued commands on where he wanted his viper squadrons to engage. The powerful man made the tactical table an island of stoic calm that waves of panic and fear couldn't reach. Instead Adama's calmness radiated outward and comforted his soldiers. He'd seen more battles now than any other Colonial officer in the Fleet.

Rebel Librans were a troublesome group. They were known for being violent when caught, and Adama had caught them. The battle raged, and the Valkyrie was sustaining extensive damage. Casualty reports came in, and Adama knew there were soldiers who'd be lost in this battle. Now wasn't the time to mourn.

He led the men and women under his command to victory, but the Valkyrie needed at least three months in dry dock to recover from its battle with the rebels.

…

Laura waited on the sidewalk by her car for Bill. Her irritation flared, she ended up dodging far too many inebriated soldiers who were hanging out around the spaceport. Laura didn't know and didn't care what was going on; she was too busy looking for her battle-weary husband.

So, when a young blonde woman staggered into her, she had to bite back the tongue lashing she wanted to give. The drunk girl laughed at her own clumsiness before looking up into Laura's face. Laura froze.

"Hey, Madame Prez!" she laughed. "Didn't think I'd see you again." She pulled herself moderately upright before taking a swing from the bottle she was carrying.

"You know me?" Laura asked tentatively.

"Not you too. Frak! Does no one remember?!" Kara stumbled backwards, and Laura quickly moved to try and catch her, but Kara swatted her hands away. "You…. you of all people should…" she tried moving backward while shaking her head. In her drunk state it only made the world spin around her.

"Starbuck!" Laura snapped. Kara fell on the ground and stared up at Laura. The older woman knelt next to her. "What do you hear Starbuck?" Laura asked gently looking Kara in the eye. She saw Kara's lip tremble, but instead of letting a single tear fall she took a swing of booze.

"Nothin'…. nothin' but the rain."

"Come on, I'm taking you home. We'll show Bill what the cat dragged in." Kara snorted with laughter.

"Not sure you've built up an alcohol tolerance yet," Laura muttered, bending down to help the girl to her feet. Kara's arm was slung around Laura's shoulders, and the two women stumbled over to the car. All the way Kara kept muttering about no one remembering, and Laura's heart went out to the girl. She'd panicked herself when she'd woken with memories of the future.

Laura unlocked the car and gently pushed Kara into the backseat while also taking the bottle away from her. "Lie down," she ordered, rolling her eyes when she heard Kara's reply of, "Yes Madame Prez," instinctively come out.

Meanwhile Bill had exited the spaceport and moved along the sidewalk until he spotted his wife waiting by the car. Unaware of the situation, he pulled her into a kiss, thrilled to see her.

"Home?" he asked, reaching out his hand for the keys.

"I've got a surprise for you first," Laura said and motioned for him to look into the back seat. Bill peered through the window and nearly jumped in shock at the sight of Kara passed out. "Kara crashed into me and started calling me Madame Prez. She's a bit rough right now."

"What the…" Bill began but Laura cut him off.

"Let's take her home and go from there," she suggested, dropping the keys in his hand before moving to get into the passenger seat. Bill shook his head and took his place behind the wheel.

"Who's dat?" Kara groaned from the back seat.

"Still getting into trouble, Starbuck?" Bill asked.

"Ohhh! Madame Prez, it's the Old Man!" Kara exclaimed. Laura rubbed her forehead and snorted in the front seat. "Oh yea. You were gonna show him what the cat dragged in." Kara remembered. Bill glanced over at Laura with a raised eyebrow.

"Grab your gun and bring in the cat," Laura said with a shrug.

"Nuttin' but the rain," Kara recited in a slurred voice.

"I can't believe this is happening," Bill muttered as they began to drive home.

"That's not the lineeee. You're supposed to say grab your cat and bring in the gun. Hey, you two know each other? Right?" Kara asked, shifting around in the backseat trying to get comfortable as her intoxicated mind tried to process everything. Before Bill or Laura could reply Kara's snores filled the car.

"This is going to be an entertaining conversation when she sobers up."

...

Laura went inside first and thanked the babysitter for her time. Then she went upstairs to check on the sleeping boys while Bill brought in Kara from the car. Satisfied Liam and Zak were safe and snug, she went back downstairs. Their guest had passed out again after being plopped down on the couch, and Laura found Bill sitting in one of the chairs nearby observing her. Laura moved to him and placed her hands on his shoulders and began massaging.

"Knew you'd be tense," she mumbled to him. "You're going to stay up with her, aren't you?"

"Do you want to see the chaos Starbuck can cause when she wakes up in an unfamiliar place?" he asked, and Laura chuckled. He sighed and relaxed at her touch. The first time she'd massaged the tension away from his shoulders he'd been almost speechless at the seemingly small act of intimacy; he'd loved it. Stress left its physical mark on him, but he'd never asked Laura to help ease the tension away. He'd made that mistake with Carolanne. So, when Laura approached him the first time and placed her hands soothingly on his knotted muscles, he'd fallen in love with her even more.

"I'm a little antsy. Need to do something with my hands," Laura explained as she worked. At Bill's chuckle she swatted the back of his head lightly. "Mind out of the gutter dear."

"Why antsy?" Bill asked his wife who sighed and shook her head.

"Kara now remembers, and I wonder who else suddenly will. What if Lee one day comes home and starts calling me Madame President too instead of just Laura or mom?"

"One day at a time, Laura," he advised.

…..

Kara cracked an eye open and moaned. She looked around and saw the two figures in the living room with her. They stared back at her with curious expressions. She groaned at her massive headache and pointed at her head.

"Boom…boom…boom…"


	14. End of the Quiet Life

Moaning, Kara drew herself upright and perched on the edge of the couch, holding her head in her hands. It throbbed, and her mouth felt like someone had violently stuffed cotton in it. She noticed the Old Man sitting in a chair close by. He regarded her warily but kindly, and this was moderately reassuring; last time Kara had gone traipsing back into his life after dying she'd ended up in the brig. They stayed silent; both were busy assessing the other.

"Kara, here," someone said, touching her shoulder. Kara turned and saw Roslin's outstretched hand. Two painkillers lay in her palm, and Kara gratefully took them along with some water.

"How are you feeling?" Adama asked gently as Laura walked away again.

"Like the Lords of Kobol rejected me from the fields of Elysium, and I got angry drunk in response," Kara spat out.

Adama let out a grunt which wasn't quite a laugh at her dark humor. She wouldn't be Starbuck without trying to hide her feelings behind a wall of sarcasm, booze, and bravado. He wondered if she really believed that the Gods she and Laura had once (and maybe still) believed in had not allowed her into paradise.

"I don't think that's what's happening," Adama said, and Kara shrugged.

They both heard Laura walking back into the room. She handed one steaming mug of coffee to Starbuck who gratefully accepted it and another to Bill before perching on the arm of his chair. The rich aroma of coffee filled the air, and Kara cradled the hot mug in her hands; its warmth spread up her arms and into her body. The nutty smell filled her nose and woke more of her senses. She took a sip. Madame President makes frakkin' good coffee, Kara thought.

"Well, you remembered me last night," she began.

"You are a bit unforgettable," Roslin chuckled. Kara pursed her lips into a thin line, unsure of how to interpret the remark. Her natural defensiveness boiled up within her, like a cornered tiger ready to take a swipe at whoever got too close. Kara tried to beat it back down. Roslin had just given her coffee after all. Don't bite the hand that feeds you.

"We both know you," Adama assured her. "Can you tell us how much you remember?" Kara's body tensed as she thought about Galactica, her shipmates, and her viper. Clenching her teeth, she remembered saying goodbye to Sam. See you on the other side, he'd said. Her heart throbbed; this wasn't the other side she'd expected or wanted. White hot fire raced through her veins at her memories of Sammy and Lee. Were they lost to her now?

"Almost everything, I think," Kara began. "I remember the times on Galactica pretty clearly." She looked at the two people across the room, taking in their appearances. They were younger and no longer had one foot in the grave. "I remember the Holocaust, the arrow, New Caprica, Earth, better Earth, and Lee…"

"He doesn't remember anything, Kara," Laura explained in a gentle voice. Kara bit her lip and looked back down into her mug so that the other two didn't see her reaction.

"So, the three of us just wake up and remember a whole future that hasn't happened yet? Is this some sort of cosmic joke?" Kara asked. The other two didn't seem to have an answer for her. "Zak's alive, isn't he?"

"He's sixteen and probably still asleep upstairs," the Old Man confirmed.

"Oh Gods," she muttered, her heart beating wildly in her chest, and her stomach knotting. Her once dead fiancé was now a 16-year-old teenager. "This…this is frakked up."

Laura saw Starbuck's hands trembling as they gripped her mug. The coffee threatened to slosh out of the container. Laura moved over to Kara and gently pulled the mug away and put an arm around the overwhelmed woman.

"I remember feeling at peace for the first time in my life. I died, but I'd finally done something good with my life. Gods! Why are we back?" she yelled.

"It's alright to be angry," Laura said, rubbing a hand on Kara's back.

"How are you not angry right now?" Kara snapped, looking between the two of them with wild eyes that flashed with her ferocious temper.

"I was angry, Kara. At first. At the end I was at peace too," Roslin told her. "I died, but I had done my job, and I knew my people were safe. Now…I don't know what the future holds."

"We've remembered for years. Had time to get used to the memories and this world," Adama explained to her.

"How long have you both…been aware?" Some of her anger faded into curiosity.

"Seven years," Adama told her. Kara's eyes widened further, and her brain began catching up with her. She looked between the two of them.

"I, umm... know you said Zak was asleep upstairs, but, umm... whose, ummm... whose house am I in right now?" Kara probed, and Roslin blushed.

"Ours. Mine and Bill's," she replied and watched the wheels turn in Kara's head. Kara's eye traveled to Roslin's left hand, and she noted the wedding band. A few taunts and jabs were on the tip of her tongue but instead Kara found herself frowning. A pang of sadness hit her; she had no one now, and they had each other. Part of her resented that, but it also ignited a spark of hope in her.

"Kara, we are here for you." Adama came to sit on the couch as well, framing Kara between him and his wife. It was almost familial, but Kara was too angry and irritable to be comforted by this.

"I don't want to do this all again. The stress. The danger. Making constant mistakes. I don't want to be the frak-up again," she lashed out in anger. Her nails dug into the palms of her hands. She was almost cold with fury now toward the whole universe.

"Kara, that's enough," Roslin snapped, and Adama's eyes widened at her sudden harsh approach. Kara however, felt like someone had just pressed a pause button on a bomb. "You will stop talking and thinking about yourself like that. We're stuck in this life, that's a fact. What's also true is that you weren't a frak up. You made some mistakes. We all did. But you have a second chance now, and you are going to make the most of it. Got it?" she ordered, and her tone was firm and commanding. Everyone was stunned into silence for a moment by it.

"Yes, mom," Kara tried to snap at her in retaliation, but it came out far more softly than she'd intended; her impulse to explode had faded somewhat. She found that she wanted to believe the former President. For a few minutes, everyone sat stunned into silence by Laura's fierce lecture, until Kara's stomach growled awkwardly. She blushed. Roslin rolled her eyes.

"I'm going to go make breakfast. Why don't the two of you catch up?"

"This is crazy," Kara muttered as Roslin left. She looked over at Adama sitting next to her. The Old Man nodded and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, it is," he acknowledged. "Now, you said you remember Galactica. What about other memories?"

"Most other memories are fuzzy and fractured. I know some are missing," Kara admitted. "I don't remember war college, or my first posting. I remember bits and pieces with Zak, but I know a lot of that is gone." He nodded and understood how hard this must be on her. He was intrigued that some of her memories weren't restored.

"We remember everything. Cottle is the only other person who knows anything."

"Aren't we quite the group," Kara snorted. They sat there in silence for a moment.

"I guess I should get out of your hair soon." Kara suddenly felt like retreating.

"I told you before, you are a daughter to me," Bill assured her "You are welcome here."

"You have your real family back, sir. You don't need cheap replacements getting in the way now," she muttered, draining her coffee and moving to stand. She refused to meet Adama's gaze as the silence stretched between them.

"Do you really think so lowly of me, Kara? That I would be such a shallow, desperate man to need a replacement?" he growled and watched Kara wince and then shake her head. Kara wouldn't insult Adama like that. She still felt tense and ready to bolt. Bill sighed; here was another woman who he'd never really told how much she meant to him. That just hadn't been their relationship. He stood and grasped her shoulders. "Kara, I love you as my daughter. Always will."

"Your wife and I had a rocky relationship, you know. She might not want me around," Kara huffed, a bit of fight was left in her.

"She's missed you," Adama assured her.

"I held a gun to her."

"I threw her in the brig."

"That has to be like your version of a hug."

"Funny."

"I thought so, sir," she said, and they both laughed. Kara relaxed and grinned at her adoptive father.

"There it is. The attitude and sass that is Kara Thrace," Adama said. She barked out a small laugh at that, but her face froze when she saw a kid barrel into the room and latch onto one of Bill's legs as he stood.

"Mommy's making pancakes!" the kid cried out happily jumping up and down. His thick brown hair stuck out in every direction, and he was still wearing his viper jammies. "She's putting chocolate chips in mine!" he announced, before noticing Kara. His bright green eyes, his mother's color, took in the newcomer. He held on a little tighter to his father's leg, and Bill rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Daddy, who is she?"

"Liam, this is Kara. She's a really good friend of ours," Bill explained.

"Kara is family, Liam," Laura chimed in, having followed her son into the room.

"Family?" Liam asked looking up at Bill. "Like you and mommy and Zaky and Lee?"

"That's right," Bill nodded, looking at Kara. She stared at what was unfolding in front of her wide-eyed. Holy Sweet Lords of Kobol — they have a kid, she realized. Kara felt her brain going fuzzy again.

"You got me the sister I asked for!" Liam exclaimed, looking at Laura. She blushed several shades of red.

"Uhmmm… well, if she doesn't mind, she can be your sister. An adopted sister," Laura said, tripping over her words. Bill's mind was torn between explaining Kara to Liam, and Liam asking for a sibling. He noticed his son letting go of his leg and moving over to Kara.

Kara looked down at the innocent face approaching her and bent down. Her secret; she liked children. Not only were tiny humans always impressed by her daredevil stories, but (unlike far too many adults) they spoke their mind honestly and still enjoyed life for the sake of simply enjoying life. Her kind of people.

Liam's chubby cheeks and bright eyes reminded Kara of Kacey, and tears prickled at the back of her eyes at the thought of the little girl she'd once known and loved. Kacey had made it to Earth. Kara had observed her from a distance as the child bounded through the green grass of the planet.

"Hi," Liam greeted.

"Hi, Liam. I'm…I'm your big sister, Kara," she said. The rejection of sisterhood had been on the tip of her tongue along with the thought that people were better off away from her. She hurt the people she cared about, but Kara was tired of fighting and pushing the people who cared about her away was too much energy. They were the only others who remembered anyway.

"You're in the Fleet like daddy?" he asked, reaching out to touch the cadet rank bar on her uniform.

"Yep. Viper pilot," she said. Liam gasped in excitement and showed Kara his pajamas.

"I want to be a viper pilot too!" Kara high fived the kid while Bill grinned proudly. Laura huffed and left the room after glaring at all of them. Did her entire family have to join the Fleet?

…

Breakfast had been a surprisingly normal affair. Liam was enamored with Kara. When Zak joined them downstairs, Kara had shyly and quietly introduced herself and was surprised that the only emotion she felt was a sense of guilt. She barely remembered Zak. Maybe it was better that way. He was still a kid, and she couldn't stop thinking of Lee and Sam. She decided to be grateful that Zak was alive and made a silent promise to flunk him if he went through flight school.

Laura explained to Zak that Kara was a longtime friend of her family and had been like a daughter to her before the young girl had moved to Picon. Bill accepted the new twist to the story. It was the only way to explain why Kara wouldn't have known the Adamas already. Sadly, there were no other Roslins around to confirm or contradict this cover story.

After breakfast, Zak and Liam left the three adults alone at the table after being kindly asked to let them talk alone.

Roslin and Adama told Kara about seeing Cavil and Doral. She agreed with their plan to tell Adar what they knew when he was elected President. That time was drawing near and Kara agreed to add her testimony to theirs. She agreed to help Cottle and Adama create stockpiles of supplies; it would be useful to have a pilot help sneak shipments around.

As the conversation lulled, Kara stared down at her hands. She'd emotionally flat-lined. The chaotic rush of emotions had drained her system.

"What are you thinking, Kara?" Laura asked, noticing her faraway look.

"Leoben." All the Cylons were on Kara's mind, but she fixated on Leoben most of all. "He talked about being in a stream. About how he floated in the stream and could see how it would flow. He knew we'd find Kobol before we found it. He knew I had a destiny. He just seemed to know things. Now we are like him. We know things. It's like we all hopped out of whatever stream that was carrying us through our lives and decided to take a hike back up stream before jumping in again. At least we know where all the rapids are."

"Leoben did have an uncanny ability to predict upcoming events," Laura acknowledged as she thought over Kara's metaphor. She thought of the coincidences she'd noticed. The Final Five in the fleet. Strategically placed Cylon agents. She thought about people and Cylons remembering other timelines and trying to alter the future.

"All this has happened before and all this will happen again. Maybe there have been people or Cylons like Leoben who might have been like us and remembered one of the cycles." Kara muttered as if she shared Laura's thoughts. Laura remembered her visions in the hospital; she'd seen herself die repeatedly. Each one of those visions could be a lifetime she'd lived and forgotten, Laura mused.

"This has all happened before…" Laura muttered.

"You know what? Frak prophesy," Kara snarled.

"Couldn't agree more," said the Prophet to the Harbinger.

…

It was dark outside and the house had grown quiet. Kara was passed out in the guest room, having accepted the invitation to spend the night again. She'd assured Adama that she hadn't gone AWOL, but cheekily asked if she could use the house as a hide out when she inevitably did. Zak and Liam were in their rooms asleep as well, leaving only the two parents awake.

"You have all of your children back, Bill," Laura whispered, coming to stand next to him. Her husband sat on their youngest son's bed with his glasses perched on the tip of his nose. He'd been reading a book to Liam, and the boy had fallen asleep while listening to his father's voice tell him the story of Perseus and Andromeda. Bill was taking a few moments to simply observe him. Even though he read to Liam over the phone, reading in person was so much better. He turned his head toward Laura and grinned.

"All our children, it feels good," his deep voice was extra gravelly as he spoke quietly so as not to wake the sleeping child.

"He's growing so big," Laura sighed, moving over toward Liam to brush a kiss on his forehead. "I love you my darling," she whispered, tucking the covers around him. She straightened and extended a hand to Bill silently inviting him to join her. He grasped her hand in his and stood.

"Can I…. ask you a question?" she asked nervously as they made their way to their bedroom. Bill raised an eyebrow at her uncharacteristic shyness. He nodded, closing their bedroom door behind them. Laura slowly turned to face him, and Bill was momentarily mesmerized by the silk purple robe she wore and the way that it flowed around her. He noticed her restless hands.

"I've been wondering, umm… I wanted to know if…" she cleared her throat and took a breath. Bill closed the distance between them and took her fidgety hands in his, hold them affectionately against chest while and waiting for Laura to continue. He didn't prompt her to speak but simply tilted his head to the side and waited. She sighed. "Oh, the Adama silence. OK, what did you think when Liam asked for another sibling?" she asked and looked into Bill's eyes, waiting for his reaction.

"Are you..." His eyes widened.

"I'm not pregnant," she assured him quickly before he could even ask, "but, what if?"

"I've thought about it before. Wanted another, but…" his voice trailed off.

"But…?" she pushed.

"Didn't know how to talk about it," he admitted in a quiet voice. Bill looked down, embarrassed and thought back; his children had all just kind of happened. Lee had been unexpected, and a large reason for his first marriage. Then one day, Carolanne had announced that she was having another. Truthfully, Liam had been an accident as well. He was a wonderful accident but still unplanned. With Laura having taken in Lee and Zak, it hadn't seemed fair to even ask Laura if they might have another, and he didn't know how to broach the subject.

"I've been your wife for years, and you didn't know how to talk to me?" Laura asked, frowning. Her heart ached at the thought that somehow Bill still found strange to be a normal couple. She pulled away and walked over to the bed, pulling the covers back.

"I'm in space a lot. It wasn't fair to bring it up," Bill said, and Laura heard the sadness in his voice.

"Bill, we've been married for years. We're supposed to be able to talk about anything together," Laura sighed, looking up into his eyes and trying not to sound too accusatory. Bill's reticence ebbed and flowed between endearing and absolutely infuriating.

"I was thinking of you, Laura. It's a lot to take on while I'm with the Fleet." Bill said, trying to explain as they both climbed into bed.

"I like knowing what's going on in that thick head of yours," Laura said, pausing her movements to look him in the eye.

"Do we want another?" Bill asked. He thought of the daughter he'd always wanted.

"We could just see what happens?" Laura suggested with a smile, laying down on the her side of the bed. She'd stop taking her medication.

"If you are sure, Laura." Bill agreed, joining her. "But you do realize that we frak each other senseless every chance we get, right? It could happen fairly quickly."

"One can hope. And what can I say? I'll never get enough of you, Bill," she grinned, gripping his dog-tags and pulling him to her. It was a wonderful feeling; loving and being loved by the other. It was more than just seeking pleasure from their partner; it was the closeness, the connectedness, the giggles, the moans, the freedom, and passion. That the two of them had shared so much and that they continued wanting to share their lives was a testament to how strong their bond was.

…..

After they fell asleep that night, Laura's visions returned. The same ones. Bill was leaving and as he left, Tory handed her a letter. As soon as the letter touched her hand the clanking started, deep in the bowels of Colonial One. It sounded mechanical. The metal clanged around her, and her mind screamed at her to hide. She needed to find something first. Frantic, she looked everywhere. Her throat was hoarse from yelling, but she couldn't hear what she was saying. She couldn't leave without finding it. The clanging got louder. Centurions surrounded her, and she was pressed against the wall. She screamed and everything faded to black.

...

Cavil felt the years ticking past, and it grated on his nerves. He'd acted benign and calm for long enough that the others had started to trust him again. Apparently, they weren't just going to trust that he knew the future, so he'd stopped sharing all his knowledge. The grumpy Cylon had felt cooped up as time passed on the colony ship.

It was wonderful to be free again. He had a plan, and a couple of options for how to get what he wanted. The Cylon had managed to get himself to Troy without being detected. Now, he was arranging for smugglers to bring him closer and closer to Caprica.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Kara was a bit of a challenge to write, but hopefully her reaction to being awakened is believable. The plot hopefully hasn't gotten too slow, but Cavil's coming to Caprica!


	15. The Future

Day 3

He thought he'd chosen to be a better man. He'd loved his wife. He'd been a good father. In less than three days, Bill Adama had gone from enjoying all that was good and wonderful in his life, to wondering if Laura would ever speak to him again.

Day 1 - 1300 hours

The Adama family had retreated into the mountain ranges of Virgon. Bill and Laura had worked hard to coordinate vacation days after Zak and Liam ganged up on them and proclaimed that they wanted to go camping. Laura had a few choice things to say about staying in a tent (New Caprica had ruined any enjoyment of tent camping she may have once had), but the boys allowed their definition of camping to include staying in a cabin. Laura still liked cabins. So, they rented a cabin on Virgon.

Earlier in the morning, leftover rain from the overnight storm glistened on the forest tree branches as the sun broke over the snowcapped mountains. The scent of rain and pine filled the air and mingled with the lingering smell of last night's campfire which the Adamas had gathered around.

The boys' laughter echoed across the sparkling lake as their father tried to show them how to fish like Joseph Adama had once showed him. They sat out on the dock where Bill was trying to untangle Liam's fishing line. His lips were pinched together, and he was doing his best not to swear in front of his sons.

"C'mon, Dad. Can't be harder than commanding a Battlestar, right?" Zak teased from where he sat beside Liam. Bill's glare only caused his youngest son to giggle. Liam had the same laugh as his mother, and Bill couldn't be cross with either of them when listening to that sound. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Laura walking out of the cabin and toward the dock to join them.

"So, have you caught anything?" Laura asked.

"Dad should keep his day job," Zak quipped; the boy had been an endless source of pithy one-liners at his father's expense during this vacation. Bill's glare returned, and he tossed the fishing line down in surrender.

"Zaky! Dad told us to tell mommy we caught a big fish," Liam said. He continued speaking but looked down at his toes. "We caught a really big fish. Oh, but we let him go…. Dad said to tell you that too," he said, reciting the lines his father had told him to say. Bill sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Laura wasn't going to let him live this down any time soon. "Can we just swim?" Liam asked, frowning at his fishing pole. Bill huffed but nodded. The boys gladly ran inside to change.

Laura chuckled and took a deep breath of fresh air while looking out over the glorious bit of nature. The water wasn't clear as glass, but it reflected the trees surrounding it which created its own unique beauty.

"You know," Laura began, and Bill forced his face to remain impassive, knowing it was her turn to tease him and refusing her the satisfaction of getting a response. "Liam can't lie without giggling or looking at his toes, right?" Bill huffed. Suddenly the boys were blazing past, hurdling themselves into the water with one long happy shriek. Their parents watched them. The boys were both good swimmers, especially considering how young Liam was, but Laura was still happy to see them head for the shallow water.

"Hey, Bill?" He gazed up to her and narrowed his eyes when he caught her smirking. "Aren't you military types supposed to be good at catching things?" she teased. Seeing the laughter dancing in her eyes, Bill climbed to his feet before closing the distance between him and his cheeky wife.

"I recall catching you and throwing you in the brig," he growled.

"I let you catch me. And I escaped," Laura countered, putting her hands on her hips while still smirking. "I distinctly remember you having a hard time catching me again," she provoked. That's it, Bill thought. He moved quickly and scooped her up in his arms before she could react. He walked toward the edge of the dock.

"Caught you," he said in a deep gravelly voice. Laura shuddered; that was his dangerous voice.

"William Adama, " she warned, holding onto him as her eyes darted between the water and his serious expression.

"I think I need to teach you not to doubt my military prowess, Madame President," his voice dropped even lower before he stepped off the dock. He heard Laura yelling before they were submerged, fully clothed, in the cold water. They both broke through the surface of the water, sputtering.

"I cannot believe you just did that!" Laura yelped, shivering in the cold lake. At the sight of her husband's triumphant expression she couldn't help but crack a small smile. Bill laughed. It drifted across the lake and mixed with the boys'. He'd learned to spend time with his family and to have fun with them.

…

Day 1 - 2200 hours

Laura and Bill laid on a blanket outside, enjoying each other's company while looking up at the stars and finding different constellations. It was reminiscent of a certain night years ago on New Caprica. This time, there was no pretense that they were nothing more than friends; they'd been happily married for years. Laura smiled from where she had tucked herself against Bill's side, tangling their legs together and entwining their fingers on top of his chest. She wasn't going to tell Bill that lying next to him was her favorite place in the world, that was the kind of thing they just intuitively knew about the other. She could feel the smile on his lips from how close they were pressed to her forehead. If this wasn't happiness, they didn't know what was.

"You've never told me if you'd have settled or not," Laura said, an old curiosity tugging at her. She wasn't sure why she asked. Knowing Bill as well as she did, she already knew his response.

"If I'd settled, what would have happened when the Cylons came back?" he asked, shifting uncomfortably but keeping his arm securely around his wife's body. She was warm and soft against him and savoring these moments would comfort him after he returned to the cold of space. He hugged her a bit closer.

"The keeper of the lighthouse. It's a lonely job," she replied, her voice like the gentle hum of a whispering wind. He was driven by duty, as was she, and it was part of their attraction to the other. Still, it made her sad to think of him on Galactica running around all night and day, and she stared down at their clasped hands.

"I'd have passed the job on," he rasped after moment of silence stretched. "A schoolteacher was going to build a cabin, and I planned to retire and help," he admitted.

"What?" she breathed, sitting up enough to look down into his face; there was honesty and starlight reflected in his eyes.

"Yes. And we might have been screwed if I had. We had responsibilities," he explained. Bill reminded himself about the times his judgment had been clouded. Every time someone he loved entered the equation, his decisions became compromised.

"That's why you pulled away from me after New Caprica," Laura realized. They'd been overjoyed to see the other, but their actual words and actions were lukewarm and controlled. Deep down, Laura had been hurt and confused; it made dealing with the trauma of New Caprica harder.

"We see how that turned out," he huffed but smiled. "I could never let you go," he said, looking up at her.

Laura looked down at him curiously. He was such a contradiction; his strong sense of duty straining against his love for friends and family, his stoic calm hiding his passionate side, and his reticence covering a well of deep feeling. She reached over and traced the planes of his face with her fingers, over the groves of the scars she knew well, and to the tip of his nose.

"I love you, Bill Adama," she whispered, leaning forward to brush her lips against his. He knew she genuinely loved him for who he was, and by the Gods he loved her back equally. He poured the love he didn't have the words to express into kissing her back, showing her how much he cared.

…

Laura's dreams that night began in an explosion of color. Lush green grass covered the whole field in front of her. Set against the green waves of grass was a cobalt blue sky with puffy white clouds. Brilliant purple flowers dotted the area while orange and brown butterflies fluttered through the air. As beautiful as all that was, it was the flash of fiery red hair flying wild in the summer breeze that was the most glorious sight of all. It belonged to a young girl who chased butterflies through the fields, and Laura knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was her daughter. Joy filled her so completely that she thought her heart might burst.

"Your dreams have always been prescient," Elosha murmured from beside her.

"I like this vision though," Laura breathed, laughing in happiness.

"One day she'll have both of her parents wrapped around her little finger," Elosha promised, and Laura didn't mind that thought at all. Her eyes followed her daughter, and she tried to burn the sight into her memory.

"Have you read the scrolls of Pythia lately?"

At the mention of Pythia Laura's smile faltered and the scene around her faded. Images flashed through her mind. Visions. A metal chair. A glowing orb. A piece of paper which bore the presidential seal on it.

Clanking rang in her ears; they were coming. The overwhelming urge to find something grasped her. She had to find what was missing and protect it.

….

Day 2 - 1000 hours

It was time to head back to Caprica City. Reality settled in around the family, and they were left with a blend of joy and melancholy.

Bill kept glancing over at Laura. She stood by the lake with her arms wrapped around herself, taking in the scene. He moved over to her.

"Someday, Laura," he promised. "Someday."

…

Day 2 - 1700 hours

Sometimes, Bill tried to remember the apartment he'd owned while commanding Galactica in the other timeline. The place he'd once lived in had faded in his memory, and only little details remained; the layer of dust covering every surface when he came back after months in space, the paint cracking from lack of care, and the creaking floorboards. It functioned as a place to lay his head at night on the occasions when Bill made it back to see his sons, but its four walls didn't know the warmth of family.

That was before, now he had a home with Laura. Every time Bill crossed the threshold an instinctive relief and warmth settled in him. This time, all the Adamas relaxed when they came inside, except for Liam who eyed his parents warily. Despite his parent's admonition against such behavior, he'd spent hours fidgeting and whining on the plane ride home. Upon returning home, Laura ushered their son upstairs to talk while Bill moved through the house unpacking from their vacation and taking care of this and that. He put the kettle on for tea, knowing Laura would need some. He cleared clutter off the table. Sweeping up the mail, he started sorting it until he froze.

It looked innocent. Breaking out into a cold sweat, Bill stared down at the icon representing the office of the President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol. That wasn't what caused his blood to run cold and his throat to constrict. It was the words scrawled out underneath the symbol.

*Madame President*

Bill's gaze darted up to see if Laura had come downstairs. Still alone, he retreated to his study. Quickly and quietly, he shut the door and examined the envelope. It looked completely unremarkable, but Bill noted the lack of a return address or stamp. It had been hand delivered, he realized. His muscles tensed. Taking a deep breath, he opened the envelope and drew out the letter within.

*Madame President,

Hello, Laura. It's been a long time, but I've followed you and your husband's lives since our dance. I imagine it's been delightful to be on Caprica, and I myself have enjoyed being back. There's been a lot to keep me busy, but I find time to think back on life. We share some fond memories. Admittedly, New Caprica was a high point for me. Alas, there's more than a few unpleasant memories we also have in common, and a certain taste of mortality we both experienced. It's not a fate I'm sure you are eager to experience again.

Why spend too much time reminiscing? The last few years have been good to us. You've had your own high points in this life; marriage and children. Your son is at quite a delicate and vulnerable age, don't you think? Does it bother you that your husband chose such a dangerous profession and is away so often? I hope you can take care of yourself.

I think we should get together for a meeting. The 14th? 11:00 pm? Shall we meet at that park where you take your little son to play?

I look forward to seeing you,

Brother C.*

When Bill finished reading, the letter was clutched so tightly in his hands that the paper had badly creased and crinkled. Fury boiled within him as he read the message again. Subtle threats whispered out from between the lines. Bill knew that if Cavil ever came close to Laura again, he would wrap his bare hands around the Cylon's throat until the threat was neutralized. And if he caught Cavil even looking at Liam… Bill's rage flared, and several objects went flying off his desk in one swoop. Panting, he braced himself against the desk and glared at the offending paper.

He wasn't sure how much time passed, but he heard Laura calling out his name. He forced his body to relax and took a steadying breath. Liquid fire continued to course through his veins as he strategized. The 14th was tomorrow. Making a split-second decision, he shoved the letter deep in the desk drawer and slammed it closed.

Slipping out of the office, Bill found Laura in the kitchen making tea and looking tired. Seeing his beloved wife after reading the Cylon's letter calmed his mind, but the need to feel her seared through his body. He strode over and pulled her into his strong arms. Unquestioningly, Laura melted into his embrace and rested her head on his shoulder, humming in contentment.

"I needed this," she murmured, a peaceful smile tugging at her lips. Her eyes drifted closed as she enjoyed his warmth spreading into her body.

Holding his wife only further ignited his instinctive desire to protect her; although, he suspected Laura would smack him if she knew how overprotective he was feeling and the letter he was hiding. He ran his hands up her back and buried his fingers in her hair, stroking the red curls and soothing his nerves. Cavil had already gotten too close to her once before, but she was alive and safe. He'd walk through Hades if it meant keeping it that way. He decided not to mention the letter. She would only stress, or, worse, she'd insist on marching off to deal with Cavil herself, and there was a distinct lack of airlocks on Caprica. He could take care of it alone.

…

Day 3 - 2230 hours

Bill explained to Laura that he was going out to meet an old pilot friend for a drink. Keeping contacts throughout the Fleet was an ongoing mission of his, so Laura thought nothing of it. His heart protested the deceit, especially after how easily Laura believed it. She trusted him. There was a fleeting moment when Bill nearly told her everything, but Laura was the key to their plan; future President Adar would only listen to Laura. Besides, what would he do if something happened to her? He'd force himself to continue if she died, but a part of him would be lost forever.

Settled on the couch, Laura looked over reports from each colony's Director of Education. She was unaware of her husband slipping on his sidearm in his study. It remained out of view under his jacket even when he kissed her goodbye before heading out the door.

After arriving, Bill surveyed the park but kept to the shadows. It was hard to see in the dark; the streetlamps cast only a fickle light. It was as if night had sucked all the joy out of the playground and replaced it with something sinister. The colors were drained away and the remaining shapes felt threatening. Every rustle of leaves foretold danger, and the sound of a twig snapping beneath his feet caused his pulse to thump in his ears. Bill remained wary and calm; he was a soldier, well trained and battle hardened. Thinking on his feet was second nature to him as was analyzing the enemy's weaknesses. Waiting for the Cylon to appear, Bill hoped tonight would provide useful strategic information.

Five minutes before the arranged meeting time, an old man walked into the park and sat down on one of the benches. He crossed his legs and leaned back, folding his hands over his chest. There was an air of nonchalance about him as he sat waiting on the bench. Bill didn't show any emotion as he strode over, keeping one hand close to his weapon.

"So, she sends her Admiral to talk. Predictable. Hello, Admiral Adama," Brother Cavil greeted, glancing up at the towering soldier looming over him.

"Commander," Bill corrected.

"Alright, so we are pretending not to remember a time when you were an Admiral," Cavil sighed in exasperation. He shrugged flippantly but looked up and their gazes locked. "Indulge my curiosity, Commander. Did you cry over Madame President's death?" the Cylon asked with a cruel smirk. Bill tensed, and Cavil's grin widened.

"If you have something to say, I suggest you get on with it," Bill growled.

"Fine, fine. Well, you remember another lifetime as does your wife and, well, so do I," he said, speaking with exaggerated hand motions. "So, I want to make a deal. I humbly offer you my complete and unwavering protection. You and your family will always be safe and sound no matter what happens to the Colonies. In exchange, you tell my fellow brothers and sisters about the other timeline. I'm sure you understand: they're a bit skeptic to take just my word on the matter," Cavil explained. He kept his tone light and relaxed, hiding the exasperation he felt. There was no way for Bill to know that the other Cylons had refused to listen to Future Cavil. He'd tried to explain his story to the other Cylons, but it didn't compute with their programming and understanding of the world.

"That's not going to happen," Bill swore, knowing he'd rather die than help the Cylons.

"It's a dangerous world, think about my offer," Cavil replied with an exasperated sigh. He stood and straightened his jacket. "I'll even sweeten the deal. No humans ever need know of your involvement," Cavil added and winked at the Admiral-turned-Commander. In truth, Future Cavil knew there was little chance that his offer would be accepted. He acknowledged a certain amount of desperation behind this deal to the once and future leaders of humanity; he needed something to prove that his assertions about the future were true. Their voluntary testimony was one option.

Cavil held up his hand, cutting off Adama's reply. Looking over to the side, Cavil gestured with his thumb to the car pulling up to the curb. "Gotta cut this short. My ride's here, and, frankly, I don't trust you not to shoot me if I stick around any longer," he said, tipping his hat and moving off.

Huffing in irritation, Future Cavil climbed in the car. If Roslin had come, she might have accepted his offer; Cavil's understanding of human mothers was that they'd do anything to protect their young. If she hadn't accepted, it would have been easy enough to just take her and force the truth out. The arrival of the Admiral had forced him to change tactics a bit. He didn't like not getting what he wanted.

As Cavil prowled off, Bill growled. A logical part of his mind remembered that the police finding a dead body in the park, with a bullet that could be traced to his gun, was probably not a good idea.

Bill Adama hated when things felt like they were spinning out of control, and he didn't feel particularly in control of the situation. He slammed a fist against the wood of the bench and watched Cavil disappear into the night.

...

Day 3 - 2400 hours

Bill tried to slip through the front door without making a sound, but the door creaked in betrayal. The sound seemed to echo in the darkened house, and Bill cringed at the noise.

"Nice timing, I was just heading up," Laura said. Her voice was light, but it seemed to crash and clang in Bill's ears. He whipped his head around and watched his wife move away from the stairs and into his personal space. Grinning, she draped her arms around his neck. Her fingers played in the ends of his hair, and Bill shuddered. "How was your meeting?" she asked, pressing kisses up his neck.

"Fine," Bill sighed, trying to think straight and act normal while his heart thundered in his chest. In the next moment, her lips were on his, hot and demanding. His hands came to rest on her waist of their own volition as he responded to her advances. She didn't keep how much she loved being with him physically a secret, and, under normal circumstances, he would be gladly reciprocating her desire.

"Come to bed with me?" she asked in a whisper against his lips, as her hands ran down his back. Because Bill was trapped in her teasing and playful green eyes, he saw the exact moment her demeanor changed. A frown crossed her face, and she let out a small gasp. Slowly, she reached up and unzipped his jacket and slid it off. Bill frowned wondering what was going on until he felt her hand resting on his sidearm. She must have felt it through the jacket. He watched her eyes narrow but didn't let go of her gaze as she unclipped the weapon and slowly drew it out of its holster. Tension pulsed in the air between them.

"Why do you have your sidearm, Bill?" Laura asked in a low whisper. "And don't mention drinking with a buddy. Let's cut straight to the truth. You never would have taken your gun out to drink," she growled, and her words hit Bill like an icy dagger. He was caught. Wordlessly, he took the weapon out of her grasp.

They squared off with each other until Laura's gaze darted toward the top of the stairs. No one was there, but there were children in the house. A sharp nod of her head toward the study, and Bill understood; this conversation was going to happen behind a closed door. He marched into his study with Laura trailing close behind. The door was barely closed before she was demanding answers.

"What's going on?" she hissed, watching Bill remove his weapon belt. A tense silence stretched as he placed the belt and his gun in his study's safe, locking them away.

"I was meeting someone," he admitted vaguely. A sour taste filled his mouth at the unpleasantness of the evening, and he poured himself a Caprican whiskey from the decanter on his desk. Irritation now flashed in her eyes, and a red flush of anger spread across Laura's skin warning Bill that he was on thin ice. As if knowing the conversation would be a disaster, he downed half the glass in his first sip.

"You're going to have to do better than that," Laura growled. His eyes snapped back to hers, and a silent battle of wills between blue and green played out. Moving stiffly as tension coiled in his muscles, Bill yanked open a desk drawer. He pulled out the letter and handed it to her.

Taking a sharp breath, Laura examined the envelope. Her fingers traced over the icon and writing. She couldn't look away. Despite the warmth of the office, she shivered as a cold dread filled her.

"Just like in my dream," she whispered. Bill's brows furrowed; he hadn't realized the letter matched the one in her visions. The knowledge that her dreams were prescient rattled him more than he wanted to admit, and he took another sip of whiskey. Laura's hands noticeably shook as she pulled out the letter and read it.

"You went and met him," she realized, and her tone was flat. She tossed the letter on his desk and folded her arms.

"Yes."

"Without telling me or showing me the letter?" she exclaimed in complete disbelief. "Damn it, Bill! Did any part of you even think to maybe, just maybe, tell your wife what was going on?" she demanded, her voice rising in volume.

"I was trying to keep you safe!" he barked, the admission slipping from him in his agitation. He hated feeling as if he was backed into a corner. Laura's hands were on her hips as she faced him down.

"I don't feel safe! You kept me in the dark and walked into danger…"

"I'm the soldier, Laura," he growled, cutting her off. He braced himself against his desk as they squared off against each other on each side of it. "It's my job."

"I'm not the soldier, so I have to stay home in the dark?" she asked, her words tinged with sadness and hurt. She shook her head and brushed her hair away from her face. She couldn't stop seeing the words 'Madame President' scrawled out on the letter exactly as they'd been in her dreams.

"What was I supposed to do?" he asked, watching her shift around the study and refuse to look at him or the letter. Thoughts of what Cavil could have done to Laura taunted his mind. She was, despite her personality, a lithe woman who could have easily been hurt or abducted. As those thoughts crossed his mind, Bill downed his whiskey and poured another. Why couldn't she understand?

"We're a team. You were supposed to tell your partner," she sighed, pursing her lips. "What did he say?" she demanded, focusing on the issue in front of her: Cavil and Bill. She would contemplate her prophetic dreams and bruised heart later.

"He knows about the other timeline, and he wanted to make an offer. Protection if we told the other Cylons about the other future," Bill growled.

"You don't seriously believe that he'd spare us?"

"No," Bill huffed, offended that she'd even think he was that ignorant. "I'm not some naïve schoolteacher," he snapped and winced, instantly regretting what he'd said. But it had been a long time since Laura had been his President standing beside him in CIC; he hadn't seen the cold and determined President Roslin in years. "He wants to use us as proof. The other Cylons must not be listening to his crap," he continued, starting to see where he'd gone wrong.

Laura was thoughtful for only a moment, relieved that there was a silver lining to the night – Cavil must be the only Cylon who remembered.

"I wish you'd shown me the letter," she whispered, finally meeting his gaze again.

"I didn't want to risk my civilian wife walking into danger."

"What if something had happened to you?" she asked, trying not to let the tears stinging her eyes fall.

"You'd still be around to tell Adar about the future," Bill replied, taking a sip of whiskey.

"If I'd lived that long. Clearly, Cavil knows where we live. He knows details of our lives," she said, rubbing her head. She felt a surge of irritation at a sudden realization. "He knows where my son plays! If something had happened to you, I wouldn't have a way of knowing our children are in danger because you kept the letter from me," she raged, and her words were sharper than one of his marine's combat knives. "I need to know these things, so I can do whatever I need to do to keep my children safe. You kept crucial information from me!" Knowing she'd made a good point and feeling the weight of the night's experience and the truth behind her words.

"What can you do?" he asked, cringing at how condescending he sounded, but he still didn't back down.

"You think you are the only one who can protect us? I want you to think of every hard call and tough choice I have ever made and ask yourself what I would or wouldn't do for our kids," she yelled. Bill sunk down into his chair and drained his glass.

"Is that going to be your answer when times get tough again?" she asked, gesturing at the whiskey.

"That's not fair," he said, frowning at her taunt.

"Don't talk to me about fair right now," she snapped. "Not fair is being kept in the dark. Not fair was watching you drown yourself in ambrosia and whiskey once before. You promised things would be different."

"Gonna start questioning all my promises now?" he challenged her, his eyes flashing.

"Do you have any other secrets you are keeping from me?" she shot back.

"Secrets are your forte, Madame President. Remember Hera?" Laura recoiled from him.

"Going for the jugular tonight aren't we, Admiral."

"Laura..."

"You're right, I kept secrets when I was the President and you the Admiral. But I have not lied to my husband." She let her words sink in and shook her head. After a tense silence, Laura began speaking in a quiet and sad voice. "You're so afraid of being alone that you'll throw yourself into danger without thinking it through in the vain hope that you can keep the rest of us safe."

Bill opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Laura wiped the tears from her eyes.

"I'm going to bed. I can't talk anymore," she whispered, and her voice was tired and gravely sounding. Bill moved to follow her, but she held out a hand to stop him. "No, Bill. No." Shoulders slumping, Bill knew that she was barring him from their bed. He sat in stunned silence before holding his hands up in surrender and turning away. She'd never thrown him out of their bed before.

He didn't watch Laura leave.

—

Day 4

So, he'd gone from enjoying all that was good and wonderful in his life, to wondering if Laura would ever speak to him again.

Bill Adama was no stranger to sleeping on the couch. In the last few years of his marriage to Carolanne, he'd been banned from her bed. He'd slept on his couch on Galactica when Laura would stay in his quarters, but that was before a potent mix of desperation and love had finally driven him into her arms and into her bed. After that, they had never willingly slept apart.

As the clock ticked, and their angry words faded, his longing to be in her arms pushed into his mind. Stubbornly, he refused to get up and make his way upstairs. She'd thrown him out her bed, and his pride wouldn't let him come creeping back to her so easily. His motivations the whole night had been pure, and that should count for something, he thought. Time passed, the clock continued ticking, and their separation became almost physically painful.

He eyed the whiskey still in his glass. He really had pushed her tonight, he realized. One of the few demands Laura had made as a wife was for him not to drink to excess when trying to solve his problems. He'd called her a naive schoolteacher. He'd shut his partner out. He stood and moved to the sink, dumping the rest of the amber liquid down the drain. He braced himself against the sink and let his proud, stubborn, and angry mind remind him of a simple truth. He loved Laura with every fiber of his being, and nothing was worth being driven from her. Taking a deep breath, he hesitantly moved toward the stairs, never having been good at making up after a fight. He was only part of the way up when he saw Laura appear at the top of the stairs, her head hanging low.

"Laura," he breathed, his hoarse voice breaking through the night. Her eyes slowly rose to meet his. They were red, and she looked exhausted. He climbed the stairs until he was in arms reach of her, but he didn't move into her space. He wouldn't push her. His heart throbbed as he waited to hear what she had come down to say.

"I'm still mad as hell, but I know why you hid the letter," she murmured. He let out the breath he'd been holding. Tentatively, he moved over and pulled her into a warm and grateful hug.

"I was just coming to beg forgiveness," he admitted. She looked up into his eyes but still clung to his body.

"I don't want to live without you," her voice quivered with emotion, and Bill's heart broke at her vulnerability. Understanding pierced in his heart. I can't live without her, he'd told Lee once, after she'd disappeared on a Cylon Basestar, and he'd made up his mind to go get her or die trying. Some of her anger made more sense, Laura wasn't just angry at being kept in the dark, she was keenly feeling how easily something could have happened to him and to all of them. It scared her, as it would have him. He kissed her forehead.

"No more secrets," he promised. She pursed her lips but nodded slowly.

"I couldn't go to bed angry," she admitted. "I don't want to risk our last words to each other being angry ones. I love you too much for that."

"I love you too," Bill replied, saying the words he so rarely left unsaid. They clung to each other, pulling their bodies as close together as they could. The tension and heaviness of the evening pressed in all around them, but together things never seemed so bleak.


	16. The Dream is Over

Dreams had never tormented him like they plagued his wife, but he now found himself stuck in one. Bill walked through a field, the long grass grazing the tips of his fingers. The dream reflected how he'd pictured the field Laura described when she'd recounted her vision of their daughter. But here the color had been drained away, like a once vibrant watercolor painting upon which someone had carelessly thrown a glass of water. More sepia toned than colorful. More nightmare than dream. A heavy mist hung around Bill as he walked forward, so thick he could hold his hand in front of himself and see his fingers fading into the cloud. A voice cracked like a whip through the mist.

"You'll frak it up like you always do, and then she'll be gone!" Carolanne's prediction reverberated through the swirling mists of Bill's nightmare. The woman had thrown every bit of her bile and hatred behind those words after he told her he'd remarried. Her old taunts echoed around him in the fog. "Unable to love." "Failure as a husband and father." "Oh Bill, you blew it!" In his dream, the dark cloud consumed him.

In the morning when he woke, the sun had already broken over the horizon. Laura still slept, but in her sleep, she had shifted toward the far side of the bed instead of gravitating to him and nestling in his arms as she always did. He reached out and brushed tangled red curls away from her face - she was so far away he could barely reach her. One of his biggest goals in this timeline was to be a good husband to her, and last night wasn't one of his finer moments. His touch caused her to frown. Slowly, her eyes opened. His stomach clenched when he saw the sadness dulling the usual sparkle in her green eyes. She pulled away and slipped out of bed, escaping to the bathroom.

…

Laura stepped into the shower and let the hot water run over her body. Their argument from last night played in her mind like a busted record that refused to stop spinning. She tilted her head into the spray and let the water mix with the tears slipping down her cheeks. Today was their last day of vacation, and they were supposed to be enjoying a final day together as a family.

Trust. Safety. Respect. Love. Honor. In good times as well as bad times. That was their vow, and her husband had outright lied to her. Cavil was back. The Cylon knew where her son played. Her dreams were foretastes of the future. Truths ripped through her mind until Laura sank to the floor of the shower as her body shook with sobs. There she stayed until her tears ran dry, and the hot water turned cold.

Once upon a time, they'd fought like feral cats, but that was at the end of the world. In their married life they still squabbled and argued, but a roaring fight hadn't erupted between them in years. What would they come to blows over? They never needed to fight over money. Tragically, there were no in-laws to cause tension. They'd nearly fought over parenting, but a frank discussion had prevented war. They were both still proud, stubborn, and willful, but experiencing Laura's death had softened them both.

Slipping into her robe, she found her body still stiff and achy. When she left the bathroom, she noticed Bill sitting on the edge of their bed with his head in his hands. She'd told him that she understood why he acted the way he had, and she did. His overprotective side was something she'd accepted and tolerated, but it had gone too far last night. She touched his shoulder.

"Get a shower and clear your head," she ordered, but her voice remained gentle. "I'll be downstairs."

…

The boys were awake; Laura heard their voices from the back yard. The sliding glass doors afforded her a good view of their shenanigans from inside the house. She found them partaking in a favorite Adama family pastime - boxing. Well, Liam was swinging wildly at Zak who dodged the blows and encouraged his brother to aim. When a small gloved fist finally connected, Zak fell dramatically and pretended to be unconscious as Liam cheered. Laura couldn't help but smile. She'd witnessed plenty of family boxing matches in the backyard. Some of her favorite memories were of watching Bill teach his sons how to spar and seeing them laugh as they danced around each other. A sadness tugged at her heart; her father would have loved seeing his grandsons like this. Edward Roslin, the avid fight fan; he'd probably have joined them.

She wished her father was still alive so she could talk to him; she wanted someone to whom she could vent her frustrations about her overly protective and testosterone fueled husband. She tilted her head and thought of what her father would say about Bill; actually, Edward Roslin would probably go find her husband and shake his hand for protecting her.

She was still irritated. A fragile civilian, that's what he implied she was. Part of her wondered if that was how he saw her now and the thought made her taste bile in the back of her throat. Squaring her shoulders, Laura moved to her purse and pulled out her phone. She didn't hear Bill coming downstairs as she pulled up a familiar number and made the call.

…

"Richard?" he heard her ask into the phone, and he felt the usual irrational rush of emotions at the name. He was too far away to even hope to hear the reply from the phone. "Yea. Virgon was great," she said. He waited, his ears alert for more information, but the person on the other end of the phone must have been speaking based on the lapse between her words. "Look…something happened, and I could use your help." Bill's heart thundered in his chest, and his mouth ran dry. His wife was turning to Richard, her ex-lover, for help. Hurt and rage filled his heart. He knew she had the moral high ground after last night, so he went back upstairs to cool his heels and shave. Shaving always seemed to clear his head. He didn't hear the rest of the conversation.

….

Laura spoke on the phone for another couple of minutes before wrapping up.

"Someone from your security detail? I was just hoping they knew someone I could hire…. Ok, Richard, thank you." She hung up the phone. The cool granite counter-top felt good against the heat of her skin. The flush of shame left her skin warm and red. She hated asking Richard Adar for help, even though she knew the other man was plenty willing to play hero for her. She might not be the soldier in her marriage, but she was a politician. Politicians knew how to call in favors and play the cards they were dealt. She'd do anything to protect her children, even if she had to ask Richard for assistance. She'd always been a pragmatist.

….

They needed to talk. Biting the bullet, Bill went back downstairs and this time he wouldn't turn back. Calculated risk. Cornering Laura Roslin was always a calculated risk; she was fiery and fierce. Trying to handle her was like trying to handle real fire – it was likely to get someone burnt. He hoped she was in the mood to talk.

He found her staring out at their children who were sparring in the backyard. She turned when she felt his presence.

"Can we talk?" Bill asked, his heart thundering in his chest as he watched Laura turn to face him.

"Alright, but come help me make breakfast while we do," she said, moving into the kitchen. The boys would be starving once they got bored with boxing. Surprised, Bill followed her and listened as she continued to speak. "I arranged for some security at home. Most of my colleagues have a detail. I called Richard to see if he might have a lead," Laura explained as she opened the fridge to pull out some eggs and bacon. She turned and handed the bacon to her husband, who looked like he was walking on eggshells himself. She raised an eyebrow. "I heard you on the stairs, Bill. You left when I mentioned Adar's name. He's offered to send someone he trusts," she said, and gestured for him to start working at the stove.

Bill hadn't fully pictured how this conversation would go, but this wasn't how he imagined it. The scene was too calm and domestic. Trust Laura to pull the rug out from under his feet, the damn woman was irritatingly good at being unpredictable when she wanted.

"I'm sorry, Laura. About the letter," he said, pulling out a pan.

"One of these days you'll accept that you can't control everything," Laura sighed in a low frustrated voice, moving behind Bill to grab a bowl from the cupboard.

"I can't change who I am," he growled, pausing to look at her. She set the bowl on the counter with a loud thump and met his gaze.

"I've never asked you to," she pointed out. Bill's heart skipped a beat, and he frowned while meeting her gaze. She shook her head at his confusion. "Don't you remember the mutiny? We stood in that airlock years ago, and I knew you would stay on Galactica instead of coming with me to safety. I didn't try to talk you out of it. I knew what you had to do, and I accepted it."

"I remember," he said and saw the mix of emotions in her eyes; hurt, sadness, and love. They turned back to their tasks as an understanding passed between them.

"I'd have let you go meet Cavil, and I'd have stayed home. I understand when there's something you need to do. But the secrecy, Bill?" she asked, cracking some eggs with perhaps a bit more force than necessary.

"What can I do, Laura?" he pleaded.

"You have a dangerous job. I know that. I hate watching you go. I hate knowing you might not come back. I hate knowing that the world can change in seconds. But, don't you ever deny me the chance to say goodbye and tell you how much I love you again," she growled, and Bill felt shame creep up his neck at hearing his wife's need and how he hadn't even considered that.

"I'm sorry."

"I forgive you," she said, working on cooking the eggs. "You only ever have the best intentions, and I really do get why you are so protective of me. But, I want you to look me in the eye right now and promise me that you'll never keep a secret like this again. I might be your wife and the mother of your children, but I am not helpless, and I'm not going to be kept in the dark," she growled, turning to him and putting her hands on her hips. She needed him to remember that the tough and fierce woman she'd been as president was still in her. She was his equal.

"I made a bad call," he admitted. He snuck an arm around her back, even as she kept her hands on her hips, and pulled her to him. He looked down into her narrowed eyes, letting her see his honesty. "You are incredible, strong, fierce, smart, and I shouldn't have insulted you by keeping the letter a secret."

"That'll do, Adama. Now, let me go or the bacon will burn," she smiled slightly. They grabbed some plates and put the finishing bits of breakfast together in companionable silence. "Oh, and, Bill?" Laura suddenly asked lightly, and he turned to look at her but took a step back at both the fire in her gaze and the fork she was wielding. "You're a mean drunk, and I've told you what the rules are on drinking in this house."

"Yes ma'am," he said, almost tempted to salute her. She gave him a sharp nod and turned on her heels to carry the plates to the table. Bill let out a shaky breath.

"It's been a peaceful life these last few years. Like a dream. But we both knew the Cylons weren't gone for good," she sighed. "I hate even the idea of this, but it's time to tell Zak and Lee the truth."

"Are you sure?" Bill asked, helping to take breakfast to the table.

"With the Cylons back, they need to know," she said. He nodded and brushed a kiss on her forehead. She caught his hand as he began to move away to get the boys. "There's a storm coming Bill, we can't let each other go," she murmured, thinking of her dreams and troubled by all that she had seen in them.

….

"You're awful. I mean…I remember how you shot at me at close range and missed. I thought it might be Providence. Turns out, you just can't hit the target. Ever," Starbuck needled at Laura as she casually leaned against the wall behind her. Kara was enjoying the fact that Laura was no longer the President; it meant she didn't have to leave as much of her snark unvoiced.

"Well, if you ever hand me a gun again and tell me to shoot you – I don't want to miss. So, care to share some pointers?" Laura snapped back. Kara pushed off the wall and moved to the older woman.

"Let's fix your grip first," Kara sighed. Then she smirked. "This had better not actually come back to shoot me in the ass."

"I can't believe that is turning into a running joke between us."

"What else are you going to do with the most depressing moments in our lives? Crack jokes and drink booze."

"Tell you what, if you help me hit the target then the first round is on me," Laura promised, reloading the gun as Starbuck had shown her. Her hands didn't shake as badly as they had the first time she'd reloaded. What progress, Laura thought sarcastically.

"Top shelf?" Kara felt like pushing her luck.

"You know what…that sounds like a deal." She'd feel like celebrating if she managed to hit the target at all.

"Frak yea! But you are coming out with me. You need to talk to someone, and while I'm not into having girly talky time, I'm not teaching you how to shoot and then having the Ol' Man turn up dead," Kara pushed. The young woman reached over and further adjusted Laura's grip and stance.

"You and me going out for a drink?"

"I'm an agreeable person after hitting the shooting range," Kara promised.

….

The darkened room was crammed with people. Nervous whispers floated around in the back of the room, but the further forward one moved the quieter it got. Front and center stood a television, which held people spellbound; their rapt attention focused on the reporter. Right in front of the screen, Richard Adar fidgeted. On one side his candidate for Vice President stood with his mouth pressed into a thin line. On the other side stood Laura Roslin who calmly sipped from a glass of wine. The plush carpet muffled the pacing of so many people in one room, and Laura didn't hear a man sneak up behind her.

"How can you be so calm?" Wally whispered.

"I know Richard's going to win," she shrugged. Laura was the only person who wasn't fidgeting anxiously or pacing furiously. "Just wait until the votes from Picon come in." Richard glanced over at her and raised a skeptical eyebrow. At the moment, he was losing the election.

"You sure?" he whispered to her. Laura just hummed teasingly and smiled. She remembered this night well.

"Picon, Richard. Picon will put you ahead," she assured him. Her confidence left many people wide eyed and shaking their heads. Picon was always a toss-up in elections. Richard's gaze lingered on her partly amused, partly anxious, and partly lustful. Laura resisted rolling her eyes; he still hadn't gotten a clue he'd never get lucky with her.

"The votes from Picon are coming in!" someone yelped. They all watched as Richard Adar overtake his opponent.

"The votes are in. Richard Adar has been elected President of the Twelve Colonies!"

Everyone cheered except Laura. She took a deep breath and sipped at her wine. Years of waiting. Years of planning. Years of anticipation. Richard Adar was now the President Elect of the Twelve Colonies, and it was time him to know the truth.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: If anyone has anything they'd like to see in an upcoming chapter let me know! Characters they'd like more focus on?


	17. Greatest of Days

The ancients called the winter holiday of Saturnalia 'the best of days.' The day was celebrated enthusiastically on each of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol; the pious visited their temples, families went to festive markets, and children enjoyed the revelry and gift giving. Almost the whole Colonial Fleet had the holiday off. Battlestars docked in shipyards, maintained by skeletal crews. Soldiers and government workers alike enjoyed their holiday respite and journeyed home.

One soldier crossed the threshold of his house, hoping for a warm welcome after being away. Bill's last mission had required almost complete radio silence, so he and Laura hadn't spoken since their fight.

"I'm home!" he called, shutting the door behind him and shrugging out of his military issue wool winter jacket. He grinned when he heard the pounding of footsteps and saw Liam barreling into the foyer and making a run straight for him. An almost cartoonish powdery cloud was left in his wake.

"Daddy!" he squealed, jumping into his father's outstretched arms.

"You are getting too big for this," Bill chuckled, kissing his boy's cheek. "Where's mom?"

"Kitchen. We are making Saturnalia cookies." Bill looked down and sighed. They were now both covered in what he realized was flour; that explained the cloud. He set Liam down before heading in Laura's direction. Cheerful holiday songs drifted from a radio in the kitchen, and Bill's heart hammered in his chest. He entered the room and saw Laura at the oven checking what was inside.

"Laura," he said, and he had to remind himself to keep breathing when her eyes met his.

"Bill!" A huge smile broke across her face. Before he could even blink, she'd crossed the space between them and had thrown herself into his arms.

"You're happy to see me," Bill noted, relieved that their fight seemed long forgotten.

"You're damn right I'm happy. Now, if you aren't kissing me in the next five seconds, we're going to have words," she promised. Her hands already tangled in his hair, pulling him down to her. Bill wasn't inclined to protest her enthusiasm. When they separated both were breathless.

"Missed you," he murmured.

"Me too," she hummed. "Love you."

"About time. Now unless you want me to drag you upstairs right now…" he rasped quietly in her ear. He felt Laura giggle.

"I wouldn't complain, but the kids are around," she said, pulling back to nod at where Liam was peeking through the oven window. He looked up eagerly at his parents.

"Are they ready yet?" he asked, and Laura smiled, stepping out of her husband's arms and moving over to Liam.

Bill took a moment to relax and breathe. The delicious smell of freshly baked cookies filled the air as Laura pulled Tauron cinnamon cookies from the oven. It brought back memories of Evelyn and Ruth Adama backing during the holidays, and him sneaking into the kitchen to steal the dough.

"I found these in your Tsattie's recipe book," Laura explained when she saw his wistful look. "The other kids are in the yard. Why don't you go say hi and tell them the cookies are done?" Bill nodded but couldn't resist pecking Laura on the lips once more; his perfect wife made his grandmother's cookies after all. Moving toward the sliding glass doors, he gazed at the snow covered back yard. He chuckled when a snowball whizzed past followed by a shriek of laughter. Three bundled individuals were engaged in an all-out war, and his eyes widened in surprised at the realization of who the third figure was – Kara. Laura must have asked her over.

It was good to be home.

…

Every Saturnalia morning was a magical time. For the Adamas, there was an intense sense of peace along with a special sense of excitement and joy. Laura and Bill were especially content during the holidays; it gave them a chance to relax and enjoy time together while watching over their children. It was euphoric.

Bill and Laura were sound asleep in their bed; they didn't hear the bedroom door creak open or the pitter-patter of little feet. They were abruptly jostled awake when Liam jumped onto their bed, pouncing on his parents.

"Mom, Dad! It's time to wake up!" he proclaimed. Laura buried her head under her pillow.

"Liam, what have we said about waking us up so early," she moaned. Bill chuckled, waking up more easily due to his military life. He sat up and pulled Liam into his lap, tickling his son who laughed and squirmed.

"This is what silly boys who wake up their mothers get!" Bill teased. Laura held the pillow over her head even tighter and didn't hold back her groan. She'd stayed up late wrapping presents.

"Mom, Dad, is it alright to be awake?" Zak asked in a rough voice, poking his head into their room.

"Can we go downstairs for presents?" Liam begged. Bill chuckled and ran a hand down his wife's back lovingly.

"It's no use, Laura. It's Saturnalia morning, and the children are awake," he said.

"Alright, alright. Don't open presents until everyone is downstairs though," she conceded, her voice muffled from beneath the pillow. Liam cheered and bounded off the bed, announcing that he was going to wake Lee and Kara. Laura sat up and stretched, brushing her unruly hair back. In the hallway they heard the two oldest grumbling and emerging from their rooms, Kara having stayed in the guest room. Lee muttered something about coffee.

"Happy Saturnalia, love," Bill grinned, and leaned over to kiss his sleepy wife. They rarely used terms of endearment, and Bill only used them when his feelings were particularly intense. Laura smiled at her husband's affection and good mood. He loved Saturnalia.

Together they made their way downstairs to where the younger ones were eyeing the presents on the table.

"Mama Adama certainly went all out," Kara muttered. Not only was there a pile of presents, but the house completely decorated. Candles flickered in every window. Sparkling glass icicles hung from wintergreen garlands decked around the house. Kara herself had cut out the paper snowflakes dangling from the ceiling after Laura had insisted that she get in the spirit. Socrata Thrace didn't celebrate the holidays and got especially cranky and profane when holidays came around. Secretly, Kara was excited and nervous to experience a real Saturnalia morning.

Settling down on the couch, Bill nodded at Liam and the young child began passing out presents. Soon enough each person had their own pile of blue and silver parcels they were opening. By the end of the morning Kara was sitting cross legged on the floor examining her new canvases, paints, and paintbrushes. Zak and Lee were playing a game of chess on Lee's new board. Liam was alternating between trying to provoke each of his siblings by throwing bits of wrapping paper at them and reading one of his new books. Bill and Laura snuggled on the couch watching over the kids until they exchanged their own presents.

"You're like a small child!" Laura teased Bill who fiddled with his new model shipbuilding kit. He laughed; his joy at Saturnalia morning caused the years to melt away from his face, and Laura saw him as an almost young man with few cares. She was content to watch him play with his toy, but he finally set it down and took a deep breath. His mood shifted into the familiar serious demeanor that she knew, and he handed Laura a small box. She unwrapped her gift slowly, noting how unusually fidgety her husband was. She pulled out a necklace of onyx with a symbol on the pendant.

"Onyx is the Tauron gift for the seventh year of marriage," he explained.

"What does the symbol mean?" she asked, tracing it with her finger.

"It's old Tauron. There is no exact match in Colonial Standard," he said, tugging on his ear as Laura looked at him curiously. "It's…" he cleared his throat and looked Laura in the eye. "It's usually translated as soulmate. On Tauron, it's rare for the symbol to be exchanged and only ever given to one person," he explained. Laura's breath caught in her throat, and she was rendered speechless. Her visions blurred from her gathering tears, so she handed the necklace to Bill and lifted her hair, and he clasped it around her neck.

"Thank you, Bill," she whispered, laying back against his chest and letting him wrap his arms wrap around her. She traced the symbol on the pendent again and knew it represented the truth of what she and Bill were to each other. Whatever their destiny might hold, they walked the path together.

…

Days later, the Saturnalia spirit lingered around the Adama's house. The air smelled of cinnamon, clove, and nutmeg. The group which gathered in the living room was somber, and each of them nursed a mug of Caprican spiced wine to help them relax. Despite the warm comfort the drink offered, they found it hard to swallow while their stomachs were churning. They constantly shifted around in their seats. All of them were filled with an ill sense of foreboding but tried to force themselves not to accept it consciously.

After all, they were the Colonials who remembered; Laura Roslin, Bill Adama, Kara Thrace, and Sherman Cottle. The four of them were like a little war council convening before going into a great battle. Each of them shared the work they'd been doing. Bill Adama recounted meeting Cavil; he picked up on the hints of despair from the group at the firm knowledge that the worst Cylon knew the future. He tempered the news of Cavil with reports of contacts on the Colonies and throughout the Fleet. It was an arsenal of favors and pilots which could be used when the moment was right.

When he was done, Cottle spoke up and reported on the stockpiles of medications and supplies he'd created with Adama's help. It was delicate and slow-going work, but they were starting to feel well prepared. Their backup plans were going well for if the attacks happened, but their primary goal was preventing the attacks.

They all looked at Laura. She took the packet of papers she'd been cradling to her chest and laid it down on the table.

"All the information we can give to Adar," she said, gesturing to the report. "Everything he'd need to stop the attacks."

"Will he believe you?" Kara asked, biting at her lip.

"No matter what, its gonna sound like the biggest load of bullshit," Cottle muttered.

"I've spent time laying the groundwork for this," Laura promised. "Richard will listen, but I should talk to him alone first. He's been in office a month now, and things are settling down. It's time," she sighed, and Bill reached a hand over to cover hers.

"He'll be an even bigger moron than I gave him credit for if he doesn't listen," Bill said, injecting some levity into the moment.

...

The next day, Laura made an appointment with the Office of the President for the end of his workday. The excited expression Richard kept shooting while the government met assured Laura that the man had the wrong idea about what was going to happen. Laura's constant fidgeting and nervousness was not helping.

In the early evening Bill, Kara, and Jack arrived as planned and sequestered themselves in Laura's office. They wished their old leader well, and Laura smiled at her support and back-up. Double checking that she had their report, she took a deep breath and checked her watch. President Adar would be expecting her any moment.

"Good hunting," Bill said, and his tone was strong and confident. He looked Laura in the eye and gave her a firm nod, telling her without words that he had no doubts in her powers of persuasion. He believed she'd convince Adar, and his faith bolstered her own.

…

The President's office was designed to denote the almost absolute power of the person occupying it. The sharp and crisp contrast between the black and white marble on the floor portrayed wealth and elegance. The large matte gold emblem of the Presidential Office behind the desk radiated authority. The lack of chairs for anyone other than the President to sit in implied superiority; only one person was supposed to relax within these walls.

Richard rose from that solitary chair behind his desk when Laura walked into the room, moving to shut the door behind her. They were alone. He greeted her warmly, placing his hand on the small of her back and guiding her further into his space. They moved over to his desk which he leaned against. He smirked at her.

"You've seemed nervous all day, Madame Secretary. I hope there is something I can help with," he teased, letting her new title roll off his lips with extra emphasis. Laura closed her eyes and forced herself to stay calm.

"Actually, there is, Mister President," she replied, and shifted nervously. "I need to talk to you, Richard. I need to tell you something, and it's going to be hard to explain or accept. But I need you to hear me out until the end," she said, her tone pleading but firm. Richard frowned in concern; he could tell Laura was troubled, and his instinct was to help her.

"Alright," he replied, nodding and acquiescing to her condition. He watched Laura take a deep breath and run a hand through her hair; she was nervous. Richard didn't see her agitated very often, and he grew concerned. "Laura, you can tell me anything."

"You've asked how I always seemed to be two steps ahead of everyone?" Laura asked, plunging forward and listing instances when she'd used her knowledge of the future. There were countless times she'd predicted events and situations. In fact, there were many instances when Richard had used that knowledge to his advantage. His frown deepened as he listened to the many coincidences.

"You've had an uncanny ability to predict political fortunes. An ability I've found tremendously useful," he admitted, folding his arms.

"It's more than luck," Laura said, saying a prayer to the Lords of Kobol that she was about to do the right thing.

"What?"

"I have a story to tell you. And remember, you promised to listen until the end," Laura replied, and eyed her friend until he gave her a nod. Licking her lips, she took the plunge. "You are going to be elected for a second term as President, and both of your terms will be relatively smooth with some minor problems here and there. Aerilon strikers stir up some problems, and some Sagitaron extremists will cause civil unrest when Tom Zarek refuses your parole offer," she explained, and as she continued Richard' eyes narrowed. He hadn't even discussed his desire to offer Zarek a parole with his own Vice President yet. His heart raced. How could she know his plans? Despite his confusion and growing unease, Laura continued speaking. She mapped out a future he could easily picture but spoke like it was guaranteed deal.

Laura paused suddenly. She looked up at the ceiling and shook her head before whispering a date. Her voice cracked.

"On that date, everything changes," she whispered. "The Cylons return. They return and commit an almost total genocide of the Colonies. Of humanity. They subvert the Colonial Defense Network and launch an all-out nuclear attack on each planet. Billions die. A handful, 50,000 people and one Battlestar, survive. They run as far and as fast as they can," she asserted in a shaky voice that continued to paint a bleak and miserable picture for Adar. He looked horrified.

Richard felt sick. He pushed away from his desk, pacing away from Laura and her crazy and terrible story. Opening his mouth, he was about to snarl at her to stop spinning her wild tale, but her sad green eyes caused the words to stick in his throat. There was something in her expression he'd never seen before; fear. Richard realized several bleak truths; Laura was rational and pragmatic but fully believed the story she was telling him, and, in his experience, she'd never been wrong. His shoulder's slumped, and he felt his world spin.

"I know all this because I remember it, Richard. As crazy as that sounds, I remember it all. I woke up almost eight years ago on Picon with these memories of the future. Only one other person remembered anything like I did, and things have happened as we knew they would. I've known for years that you'd become the President. After you were elected, I'd planned on telling you this story no matter what. I've been right about so much; you know I'm telling the truth."

Richard Adar moved toward one of the office's large opulent windows which offered a view overlooking Caprica City. His capitol city was glorious and glistening in the fading light. A monument to humanity. His head pounded.

"Laura," he groaned almost pleadingly.

"I know. I know. I don't have explanations for how or why," she sighed. For a moment both were silent. "Richard…look at me," she whispered, her tone desperate. He slowly turned and met her gaze; the intensity of it had him spellbound. "Believe me," she urged. He'd never heard her plead with him like that before.

"It's a lot to take in, Laura!"

"I know. But it's the chance to save billions of lives."

"Because my Secretary of Education claims to know the future? Let's be clear on what you are telling me. You've seen the future."

"Well, I'm not sure that's what I'd tell people. In fact, no one needs to know about my knowledge. But, yes. That's what I am saying. And I'm telling you that there are billions of people you can save," she said, playing to his ego. "There are subtle things that can be done, things that you can do as president. And one of the things about being the President is you don't have to explain yourself to anyone," she pushed. Richard felt ice run through his veins and turned to look at her.

"I just said that exact phrase to one of my aides."

"Really?" Laura snorted. "I remember you saying that to me a few times over the years too." Richard nodded his head and studied her.

"Your husband, he remembers?" She nodded. "Anyone else?"

"There is a cadet named Kara Thrace and a doctor named Sherman Cottle who have memories. All four of us met on the Battlestar Galactica right before the attack." He slowly nodded processing information.

"You weren't married to him originally then?" Richard asked, noting how late she claimed to have met him in her story.

"No. In that future, I never married. So, we know things can change," she replied.

"What originally happened on Picon for you, Laura?" he asked, recalling bitter memories of a canceled rendezvous. He found his anger rising at what was stolen from him.

"What you wanted," Laura admitted. "You joined me there."

"How am I supposed to believe any of this? Maybe you've just…guessed these bits of the future," he hissed, turning away from her. His face reddened from irritation, anger, and fear.

"Tell me how I could guess this then; I know you have a birthmark right," she stepped closer and rested a finger on his hip, "there. And one there. And you have a scar you won't admit the story behind right there," she said, moving her finger to its location. She heard Richard suck in a sharp breath.

"So, you remember us being together in this…alternative timeline?"

"We had an affair, and I remember it, yes." Her honesty was so open, part of him already believed her. His anger intensified.

"How long?" he demanded.

"Until you died in the attacks. You died, and I never had the chance to say goodbye," she whispered. Laura had cared about Richard, and they had parted on bad terms. Those memories left their mark.

Richard turned around and saw tears in her eyes. Part of his anger melted away. He watched as emotions played across her face, and he reached out and cupped her cheek.

"If what you are saying is true, I wish I remembered," Richard admitted, stepping closer to Laura and brushing an escaped tear from her cheek. Laura smiled sadly before pulling away.

"Sometimes, I wish you did too. It would make this conversation easier," she sighed and reached into her bag. She pulled out the report the four of them had made; all their knowledge and all their hope rested in those pages. "Here. This is the full story. Everything we know. Everything that can help prevent the attacks," she said, handing him the folder. "The others who remember are in my office. They thought you might have questions."

"I'd like to talk to them," he admitted, holding the report in his hands like it was a bomb about to explode.

"Let's go."

…

Much to Cavil's relief the snow was melting. He decided he hated the stuff. It was cold, wet, and awful. He motioned to the small group of centurions to follow behind him. This was one of the biggest risks he'd taken; Cylon Centurions on the Colonies. However, the increased security around his target required extra Cylon power. They moved under the cover of night toward their destination.


	18. Worst of Days

Every fiber of his being screamed at him to stay, to remain in the arms of the woman who clung to him and arched underneath his body. They were formal and controlled in public, but beneath their professional masks and their responsibilities, they had always been incredibly sensual people. Their marriage had long ago obliterated any lingering need to hide their desires from the other. So that night, when there was something almost feral within Bill when he took his wife to bed, he didn't hide or suppress it. Need tore through his body like fire, and he felt desperate for as much of Laura as she could give.

He was required to report back to his Battlestar the next day. He didn't want to go. His duty tugging him away from his beloved wife, and his unusual but deep unease at his coming departure, only made him a more fervent lover in the moment. Laura gave herself to him completely, sensing her husband's need, and eagerly reciprocating his passion.

Her gasps and whimpers filled the air, and Bill dropped his head onto her shoulder, whispering words of love in her ear. They were lost in the other. When they were both finally spent, he kept his arms wrapped around Laura, pulling her possessively close. The sense of dark foreboding started to sneak back into Bill's mind, but Laura, sighing happily and resting on his chest, pushed the feeling away. He focused on his wife, listening to her heavy breathing and how she trembled as his fingers traced patterns over her skin. Finally, sated and exhausted, they drifted off to sleep.

No, he didn't want to leave her. His heart, mind, and soul urged him to stay. Something was coming.

…

War College dormitories were designed to imitate the crew quarters on Battlestars. Old cigar smoke hung in the air, and the faint smell of cheap whiskey, spilled by a drunk nugget, tainted the air. It was a fine example of military efficiency; get the cadets acclimated to what military life was going to be like without delay. Plenty of recruits dropped out because they couldn't stand living in a bunk or being crammed in a room with eight other people.

Kara sat, dangling her feet from a top bunk while a figure gestured angrily and paced around the table in the center of the small room.

"They lied for years, or they're frakkin' crazy," Lee Adama raged, remembering the conversation his parents recently forced him to endure. They had told him a wild story about how they met, the apocalypse, and the future. After angrily jogging around campus while replaying the talk with his father and stepmother, he'd marched to where he knew Kara's room was. He'd spent a lot of time stewing while back at War College and felt like he'd explode unless he talked to someone. Kara. Lee had begun counting her as one of his good friends after meeting her at his parent's house. They'd run into each other on campus a handful of times. Each time he enjoyed her snark and sass, always throwing it back at her, but she excused herself before they could spend too much time together.

"Lee, stop being such a little bitch about this," Kara growled. "They're not crazy, and you know that. They just waited until you were ready for their story."

"And you…you apparently remember this other timeline as well." His tone was harsh, and he stopped and stood in front of her, craning his neck up to meet her gaze. He saw her clench her teeth and swallow hard.

"Yea. I remember. Got something to say about that? Or, maybe you can explain why you always need to go through an 'angry at dad' phase whenever life isn't all pretty and peachy. Gods. You never seem to realize how frakkin' lucky you are; you have parents who love you and only wanted the best for you. Not all of us get to be so lucky," Kara huffed. She flicked her finished cigar into the trash before laying down on her bunk; she was ready to ignore Lee and his whining.

"So, you're going to get mad at me for crap I haven't even done, and I don't remember?" Lee challenged. His pacing became even more jerky and erratic. He had the urge to hurl the triad cards lying on the table off in every direction.

"I'm going to get mad because you have no idea the shit we went through, but you want to act high and mighty simply because your dad didn't want to tell his sons some crazy, depressing story. Did it occur to you that it might be hard to talk about?"

"Did it occur to him that he doesn't have the right to just try and change the future as he wants?" Lee retorted with a crisp about face away from Kara.

"So, he should just let things happen because… fate? Hmmm? Live his life the same way? Let me, you, and your brother make the same stupid choices?" Kara was starting to feel her blood boil. The last thing she was going to do was willingly live the exact same life. No one should expect that from them.

"Maybe?" Lee shrugged. "It's our lives…" Kara sat back up and hopped off the bunk before he could even finish speaking. She shoved into his space and into his face in a flash.

"Do we just let genocide happen, Lee? Frak that! What about Zak? I don't want to see Zak die again. I can't. Neither can the Old Man. What about Laura? Should she die of cancer again? Maybe you'd rather Liam have never been born? It all happened before, so it should all happen again or not happen at all? Well, that's a frakkin' stupid idea!" she yelled. The dim light of the dorm didn't show Lee the flush of anger spreading over her, or the dangerous glint in her eye.

"Zak? Liam? Laura?" Lee frowned, and Kara chuckled humorlessly.

"Yea. Zak died in a freak viper accident only a few years from now. Liam was never born because your parents weren't together until…too late. Laura died of cancer. Oh. I die too. I'll throw that in. Another viper accident…or something." Kara shrugged. "Shall we all die on schedule in honor of what is 'supposed' to happen?"

"I'm sorry, Kara. I…"

"Got self-righteous and didn't think things through?" Kara folded her arms and watched as Lee sank down into one of the chairs at the table. His hands rested on the cool metal surface, and his fingers stretched out as if bracing himself against the horrible reality Kara was throwing in his face.

"Is it a habit of mine?" he finally quipped and tried to smile.

"As a matter of fact," Kara snapped, frowning and looking at him as one might a petulant child. "Luckily enough you have a few...a few decent personality points, so no one ever threw you out an airlock in the other timeline. It really is amazing Laura never did. Hell, its amazing neither of us ended up on the wrong side of a spaceship," she grinned. They shared the room in silence for a moment.

"You know. I assumed my father was having an affair with Laura, and that must have been why he married her so quickly after the divorce. It's what my mother claimed. Part of me was always really angry at dad for that, even though Carolanne…"

"Like my own mom, our birth mothers weren't cut out to be parents. Imagine if you'd had to stay with her. You told me details once; it wasn't pretty."

"It bothers me that I don't remember too. That my parents, the doc, and you all have memories of me that I don't. That decisions have been made that affected my life based on this timeline, but I didn't have a say," he finally admitted.

"I get it. But, maybe trust that they, your dad and Laura, just want a happy future. For you and everyone else," Kara said.

"Where do you really fit into all this, Kara?" Lee asked, watching her fold her arms.

"As a complicated mess. I was… best friends with your brother and then friends with you. Your dad has always been like a father to me. Laura and I…" she said, trailing off. "Yea, complicated mess."

"Did you and I ever go out on a date?" Lee asked, raising an eyebrow. She knew him so well, and he felt a strange connection to her; it seemed logical to Lee. Kara hooted with laughter.

"Nope. Technically, we never did," she said, catching her breath. Post-apocalyptic societies offered few dating possibilities. Besides, they were complicated. Rolling her eyes, she climbed back into her bunk. She didn't want to keep looking Lee in the eye while she blushed while remembering their...relationship? "You did see me in a dress once," Kara offered as Lee headed for the door intending to hit the showers and clear his head. He opened his mouth to probe for information, but when he saw her slight smirk, he decided not to give her the satisfaction of rising to the bait.

Kara remained in her bunk, propping a book open against her bent legs. The ring of the dorm phone hanging by the door broke through the silence. Groaning, Kara dropped from her rack to the floor and moved over to it.

"Cadet Thrace," she answered crisply. As the person on the other end of the phone spoke Kara felt the blood drain from her face. Hanging up the phone after a minute, she chased after Lee.

…

Bill Adama moved through the metal corridors of his Battlestar. Conversation tapered off when the commanding officer walked by the crewmen talking in the hallway. Polite and deferential greetings were offered by passing personnel, and he nodded his own greeting in return. Entering CIC, he suppressed a grin when the charming and dulcet tones of an angry Saul Tigh were the first things to reach his ears. The man was barking into a headset.

"…can't perform basic flight maneuvers then you'll be off the ship!" He was pacing beside the CIC table, but he snapped to attention when his senior officer approached. Bill greeted him, and Tigh relaxed. Meanwhile all CIC personnel kept their heads down and their hands busy. Everyone who served on a Battlestar knew to stay out of the XO's line of fire. The best way to stay out of 'Tight-Ass Tigh's' line of fire? Keep your shirt tucked in, your eyes on your station, and pray to your Gods.

"You're having a good morning," Bill Adama quipped to his friend who glowered from across the Tactical Table.

"You'd think the phrase 'experienced pilots' would mean that these people could complete basic drills," Tigh growled. Several crewmen grimaced at the steel in the XO's voice, thanking their Gods that Adama was in CIC. He wouldn't let Saul Tigh be too mean…right?

"Anything to report?" Adama asked, glancing up at the DRADIS screen.

"Nothing from the watch. Headquarters sent over the applicants for the deck chief position."

"Anyone promising?"

"I don't know, I never really trust a deck chief until I see them putting birds in the air." Tigh handed Adama a packet of personnel paperwork, and Bill flipped through the pages until he paused at a familiar face. Distantly, he heard Saul snapping into his headset again.

"Do you enjoy being mean?" Adama asked, giving him a wry grin.

"What do you think? Besides, it makes you look good in comparison." His friend smirked back.

"I always look good in comparison."

"Keep telling…"

"Sir." Tigh glared at the comm officer who interrupted them. The boy shrank down in his seat, but he continued speaking. "There's a priority call coming in for the Commander." Adama nodded at him and picked up the receiver connected to the table in front of him.

"Adama," he replied into the phone. Second by second he felt his world crashing down around him as he listened to the other end of the line.

…

Bill rushed home as fast as possible. Raw, hot agony filled him, burning his nerve endings and searing through his mind. A small flicker of hope burnt like a dying ember within him. Maybe someone had made a mistake. Maybe it was all a misunderstanding. Bill held onto his little flicker of hope; then he saw the police stationed outside his home. I should never have left, he thought, not when I knew something ugly was coming.

The investigators let him enter and move around the house after he furiously demanded to be allowed to do so. His eyes widened, horrified at the destruction within. This couldn't be happening, he thought. He shuffled past the furniture in disarray. He stepped over broken bits of picture frames, a flower vase, and trinkets scattered on the floor. A shuddering breath escaped from him when his eyes found the blood splattered in the living room. A body bag surrounded one of the security guards Laura had hired.

His heart thundered in his chest as he moved deeper within the house. Forcing himself to look at the red drops, his gut clenched at the trail it created for him to follow. He tasted bile at the back of his throat. A dark part of him knew whose blood lead him all the way into the bedroom. Most of the investigators were gathered there. He froze and stared at the crimson stains throughout the room. It was a lot. Too much. His legs felt weak. The blood stood out harshly against the blue walls and pale comforter on the bed. A fresh wave of agony gripped his heart as images of an injured wife tortured his mind. No. No. No.

"Laura…" he whispered, but she was gone. He sagged down beside the bed where he'd so recently clung to her, wishing never to leave. One of his hands gripped the blanket near a cluster of red strands, and Bill couldn't stop thinking of what might have happened to Laura. He clenched his teeth hard, hard enough that it felt as if they might crack from being pressed so hard, but it kept him from screaming in fear and anger.

He didn't know how long he stayed there. His desperation, fear, and helplessness overwhelmed him in a tidal wave of emotion, pressing in on him and flooding every part of his being. He was aware of one of the investigators taking his arm and leading him away. Other officers continued working around the house. Pictures were snapped. Samples were taken.

"What happened?" he growled to the officer standing next to him.

"We don't know yet, sir."

"Then tell me what you do know!" he commanded, and the officer jumped. His eyes scanned the crowd until he saw his captain and motioned for him to come over.

"Commander Adama, I'm Chief inspector Sloan. I'm leading the investigation. I know this is going to be upsetting. It appears your wife, Laura, was abducted, taken most likely from the bedroom. The evidence shows that she struggled - hard, considering the DNA evidence and the state of the house. We are still piecing together exactly what happened…" he reported as dispassionately as possible. It helped.

"The blood…will she…is she?" Bill asked. Is my wife going to be alive when we find her? He needed to know but couldn't voice the question.

"There's not enough blood for us to assume fatality. She is definitely injured."

"Liam. Zak. My sons…where are my sons?!"


	19. Worst of Nights

Before the abduction

….

The aroma of coffee swirled around her as the first drops of dark liquid began filling the pot. Laura yawned and leaned against the counter, stretching her sore body. She wore leggings and one of Bill's old Fleet sweatshirts, feeling melancholy over her husband's impending departure.

It was early enough in the morning that their children were still asleep, so she knew the heavy, thumping footfalls coming down the stairs belonged to Bill. There was a flutter in her stomach, and she felt her heartbeat surge in her chest. Laura gave herself a sharp mental shake; she was far too old and married to act infatuated. Even so, a grin kept tugging at her lips while she filled two mugs with coffee and handed one to Bill when he joined her in the kitchen.

He took a grateful sip; strong, nutty, and slightly sweet flavors flow across his tongue, waking him up. Meanwhile, the morning paper was open on the counter Laura leaned against and she glanced through the current events pages. Using one hand to hold the magical brew, his other swept the hair away from her neck. Leaning in to kiss her, he noticed a red mark on her pale skin which he caressed gently.

"Sorry," he murmured, blushing as he recalled the previous night, "you OK?" Laura giggled and took a sip of coffee to help cover her silly grin. He would never hurt her, even when they were being rough; she knew that. But there had been something undeniably intense and unusual about him last night.

"I'm great. And I don't mind that," she reached up and covered his hand where he stroked her bruise. "It's alright on occasion, especially after a good night," she assured him, leaning into his soft touch. Bill relaxed, and, when he caught her grin, he filed this new information about Laura away in his mind. His wife was definitely wilder and more unpredictable than he could have ever guessed upon being first introduced to the prim and proper Secretary of Education. He rested his cheek against her soft but very tousled hair, enjoying their closeness. He shuddered as a wave of his uneasiness returned, and Laura noticed it.

"Bill, are you ok? Is there something you want to talk about?" she asked and felt him tense.

"I don't want to go. Everything in me is telling me not to leave," he admitted, voicing the foreboding feelings which had bothered him since last night. He still didn't find it easy to express feelings or admit a vulnerability, but he could be open with Laura in a way he couldn't with anyone else. He heard her set her mug down before two arms were wrapped around him.

"I'm not going anywhere, Bill. I'll be here when you come home," she promised. Her voice was as warm and rich as the morning coffee. "I'll miss you; I always do. But you'll be back," she said, looking up into his cobalt blue eyes which blazed with his intensity. "I'll make you a deal; I'll stay out of Cylon detention, and when you come back maybe we can have a repeat of last night," she offered, biting her lip shyly and gazing at him through her eyelashes.

"You're making it even harder to leave," he growled in his husky voice, pressing her back against the counter.

Later that day he stood on his Battlestar.

…

Liam Adama did not share his mother's love of thunderstorms. They relaxed together on the couch, but with every crack of thunder, he burrowed deeper into his mother's side. Laura held her little boy close and distracted him with a pirate movie. Seventeen-year-old Zak was spending the night at a friend's house, so only Laura and Liam were home. The soft parrot she'd recently bought him was tucked under his arm while they watched Pirates of Picon. The dialogue was cringeworthy. The actors were melodramatic. The set was laughable. A few minutes into the movie and Liam was no longer eyeing the windows as if lightning would burst through the glass and gobble him up.

A few days ago, she'd picked Liam up from the capital's daycare center where he always went after school as did other government official's children. There someone had told him all about pirates, and when Laura retrieved him, she was greeted with an endearingly obnoxious pirate accent. Once home, Liam had turned his bed into a ship. Zak had laughed hysterically when Liam asked their mother what the word 'wench' meant over dinner. There was no denying it; Liam was in a swashbuckling phase.

Thunder still cracked in the skies above Caprica City when the movie ended, but Liam's breathing had deepened. Little snores joined the rolls of thunder. When Laura was sure he was sound asleep she lifted him in her arms and, after bidding her security detail goodnight, carried him upstairs and put him in his bed-turned-ship.

…

It was the dead of night when Laura jerked awake, panting and gasping for breath. Her heart raced, and she groaned as images of her usual visions faded. The storm still raged outside, and waves of rain pounded against her windows. A wave of dizziness and nauseous swept through Laura as she stumbled out of bed. She pulled on her robe and raised a hand to rub her head as she felt an intense rush of unease. The feeling pooled in her gut before radiating outward. Her body shook. Deep breaths, she told herself. Deep breaths. She'd never had a panic attack from one of her visions before, but there was something intense happening to her right now.

Water, she wanted water. Cold water to ease her dry throat and cool her off. Even in the dark, she easily began walking downstairs but gasped when one of her security guards appeared out of the darkness as thunder clapped overhead. She swallowed hard when she saw the gun in his hand.

"The Captain stationed outside says he's seen that mysterious man we were told to keep a lookout for. He was at the end of the street a few times this evening. There are some others with him ma'am, but the night and the rain make it hard to see. Cap. wants you and Liam moved to a secure location." Laura rushed up the stairs faster than she'd ever gone before. Her only thought was for Liam. She burst into his room and gave a strangled cry at the empty bed.

"Liam!" she screamed, moving to look through his room. Closet, toy box, under the bed. Nothing. As she made her way out the door it hit her, and it was like running into a brick wall of absolute certainty. It was like Kobol, the Opera House, and the letter. It was an intense realization that one of her visions was finally becoming reality, and these visions had warned her she would have something precious to find, something more important than ensuring her own safety. With a sick feeling, she realized that the thing so dear to her, and what her visions had warned her to protect, was her son.

"Liam!" she yelled again, darting out his bedroom door and searching frantically for her boy. She knew the Cylons were coming, using the dead of night and a thunderstorm to help mask their approach. Her guard moved to help in the search but kept close to his charge. Laura's anxiety grew by the second as her panicked voice called out for her son over and over. He wasn't upstairs. Gasping for breath, she dashed downstairs and could almost swear she heard the metal clanging of Cylon soldiers coming. Her blood ran cold. Tears of fear gathered in her eyes. He wasn't in the living room, or the kitchen. She gasped and ran to the only other place she hadn't looked. The office.

"Liam?!" she yelled, throwing herself through the door. The storm could barely be heard here; the room was nestled in the heart of the house.

"Mommy?" A soft, sleepy voice answered. Laura's heart thundered in her chest as she rounded the desk and saw Liam on the floor. He had two of Bill's model ships on the carpet with him, and it looked like he'd fallen asleep playing with them. She realized that he must have snuck down to play with the ships; his father had often told him model ships weren't toys. It didn't matter; tears of relief were running down her face.

"Liam!" she cried out in joy and pulled him to his feet, hugging him close. They all jumped at a loud crash from the front door. A scream echoed in the night. The storm could not cover the sound. Liam clutched his mother.

"Upstairs ma'am. Lock yourself in your room and call the police," her guard ordered as he held his gun up. Liam whimpered, but Laura moved quickly and hauled her eight-year-old into her arms even though he was too big to carry now. She dashed up the stairs, not faltering when another crash at the door could be heard.

Her visions came back to her with every step up the stairs she took. She remembered in each vision how the Cylon's got into Colonial One. She raced into her room, closing and locking the door. Her son was set down while sniffling and trying to ask what was going on. Laura breathed heavily and tried to think; she knew the Cylons always got in. Horrible sounds came from downstairs.

"Liam, listen to me. Bad men are coming, so I need you to hide. You can't make any noise no matter what. Ok. Don't move. Don't cry. Don't make any noise. This is important. Do you understand?" she demanded. The sight of Liam's tear-stained face tore at Laura's heart, and she knew tears were running down her own face. She pulled him over to the cedar chest at the end of the bed and opened it. She used it to store extra blankets which were quickly pulled out before Liam was hoisted up and settled inside.

"The police will come, and you can come out then. Not before. No matter what happens. No moving. No sound. Understand? No matter what." Liam nodded his head, too scared to speak, and Laura bent down to kiss him. "I love you, so, so, much baby," she said and then shut the lid. The blankets were quickly tossed on top of the chest in the hope that it would look less conspicuous. Laura felt the ice-cold hands of fear grip her heart when the metal clanging of centurion steps echoed through the house, mixing with the sound of rain and thunder. She darted for the gun case under the bed, yanking it out, but before she could input the code to open it, the door to the bedroom was easily smashed in.

There they stood; centurions flanking a Model One. Before Laura could even move, a centurion's arm whipped out and smashed into her, sending her sprawling out onto the floor and away from the case. Pain shot through her body when she hit the wall, and she felt blood on her face. She couldn't even say anything before a hand clamped tightly over her mouth. Despite the pain, she struggled and was able to bite down on the hand. There was a yelp of pain, and the hand's grip went slack, allowing her to slide away from Cavil. She scrambled to her feet, and gasped when she saw centurions advancing on her. She tried to move away, but one of centurions grabbed her. She fought back fiercely. Things were smashed and knocked over. It was a fight Laura knew she couldn't win, but she struggled anyway. Somehow, she slipped away a second time.

A fist exploded against her face, and she fell against the bed while blood dripped from her nose and lip. Distantly, she heard her cry of pain and prayed that Liam would keep quiet. She felt someone grab her by the hair, and she found herself being propelled across the room until her body landed on the floor. Trying to stand, her legs gave out beneath her. Dazed and hurting, she felt herself being held face down on the ground. She felt powerless and shuddered. An old man's voice growled in her ear.

"Stop fighting, Madame President. You know we are stronger than you, but I don't want to hurt you," he said. Her struggle continued, but they held her down. Her energy and strength began to fail her. "Good girl," he crooned at her when her movements stopped. At that, she lashed out again, smashing her head against where the sound of Cavil's voice was coming from. The dizziness in her head was amplified tenfold, but she heard his grunt of pain.

"What do you want from me?" Laura whimpered.

"I want you to come and talk to the other Cylons with me. I've decided to personally take you there," he growled and the pressure on her back shifted. Her arms were pulled roughly behind her, and her wrists tied together. Cavil rolled her over, and their eyes met. He was almost amazed the centurions hadn't melted under the angry fire of her glare.

"My husband will find me," she hissed. "He always does. You will regret this," she promised, even as tears escaped her eyes. Her gaze was filled with the promise of retribution. Cavil didn't respond; for once he had no witty comeback. Instead, he pressed tape to her mouth. She struggled through the whole process until something hit her head again. Darkness fell around her.

…

After Adama's Return

News vans and camera personnel swarmed around the Police Station. The wolves had descended the second it slipped that a member of President Adar's political cabinet had been abducted. Police officers kept the ravenous pack of humans away from the colonial commander being escorted into the building. The stoic man didn't notice the flashes of cameras or the screamed questions.

Bill moved as if on autopilot, like he had when Laura died years ago. His legs felt as if they were made of lead, and his stomach felt as if someone had sucker punched him. Bitter anguish squeezed his heart in her hand. The hope of finding Laura kept him functioning. Stoic and controlled, he moved up the stairs and through the doors of the station. The officers guided him through the building until he was shown into a private room where his four children were waiting. His facade faltered, and he nearly fell to his knees in relief.

"Daddy!" Liam screamed, throwing himself off Kara's lap and charging forward. Bill hoisted his son into his arms and crushed him in a hug.

"Liam," he croaked, feeling the boy's small hands gripping his uniform, while his little body shook with the force of his sobs.

"Dad," Bill's eyes snapped to Zak. He'd approached his father right behind Liam. Bill used one arm to keep ahold of Liam while the other yanked Zak into a tight hug. His boys were safe.

"You're both alright?" he asked, holding them close. They nodded. Liam leaned back to look his father in the eyes as he choked words out.

"They…hiccup … they took mommy! They took… hiccup… mommy!" The terror and sadness in such a young voice ripped through everyone in the room.

"He said the people who took her sounded like metal men," Kara reported. Lee and Kara sat in chairs looking miserable.

"She hid Liam," Lee spoke up. He looked particularly distraught; his last words to Laura had been angry ones. He'd accused her of all kinds of things after they'd tried to tell him about the alternative timeline; of having an affair with his father while Bill was married to Carolanne, of manipulating all of them, and of being a liar. Now all he wanted was to see her again and apologize. "She hid Liam in the cedar chest before the kidnappers broke in."

Bill could imagine Laura frantically trying to hide their son while Cylons broke into their house. Once she knew the Cylons were coming, her driving purpose would have been to protect her child. She must have been terrified, he thought.

"Mom…hiccup… she told me to be quiet. Not to move…hiccup…until the police came," Liam sniffed. Bill rubbed a soothing hand along his son's back.

"You're ok now. You're safe," he promised.

"I think they hurt her. There were a lot of crashing sounds, and mommy screamed. She told the bad man…hiccup…that you'd find her." Liam gave his father a pleading look. "Will you find mommy? Mommy said you always find her," he asked. His eyes were filled with tears but there was a shred of hope as well, as if he believed his father could work magic and make everything better. An anguished sound came from Bill as he listened to Liam tell him his wife's words.

"I'll find her," he swore. Hold on Laura, I'm coming, he thought.

"You always do, Bill," a new voice joined them, rising from behind where Bill stood holding Liam. They turned and faced Saul Tigh who'd appeared. His eyes blazed with an angry fury matching that of those in the room; the fire of a man who remembered another life. Not only had his memories returned, but he was ready to help his best friend take on the whole frakkin' universe. "We'll make the bastards regret taking her," Saul promised Bill.


	20. Afraid of the Emptiness

There was uproar. Media frenzy. Disbelief and shock. The story became breaking news across colonial media waves: one of the few well-liked politicians abducted in the night, a small child hidden for his protection, two security guards killed, and a distraught family left in the wake of the madness. There was no ransom note, no conclusive DNA evidence, and no statements from witnesses; there was nothing the police could use to find Laura Roslin.

Adama felt like he'd aged a thousand years since he'd seen Laura's blood on the walls, on the floor, and even on their bed. What state would he find her in? His military side hated inaction. He wanted, needed to be out searching for her, but there was no place to begin.

The police continued to eye him warily. Their Inspector fired off question after question for him to answer.

"Did Secretary Roslin have any enemies?"

"No."

"Did you have any?"

"No"

"When was the last time you heard from your wife? Did she sound worried?"

Adama thought about it carefully, trying to remember any useful detail. "The morning before she was taken I called her. Valkyrie's records will confirm that. We talked nonsense about pirates. Liam is in a phase. She didn't sound concerned about anything besides a committee hearing at work."

Adama knew interrogation techniques. He was a trained interrogator himself. Uneasiness prickled in the back of his mind as the next questions became more about him. Slaon fired them off one after the other. Adama readily provided information that would help the investigation but knew the police were running in the wrong direction after he was pumped for information on his own background. Many questions were designed to gauge if any connection remained between the Adamas and the Tauron Mob. Bill felt fury coiling in him; he'd resented his father for being a mob lawyer. He'd rejected that dark world, dragging it out wouldn't help Laura.

The police were at a loss. The kidnappers left no useful evidence. Despite being a politician, the investigators realized she had almost no enemies. In their opinion when a wife was suddenly missing or dead, the husband was almost always involved.

"Have you heard the rumors of an affair she'd been having at work?"

"Or course. Politicians gossip. She told me herself about the rumors. They're wrong."

"You're sure?"

"I trust my wife. Completely."

"You're divorced from a Carolanne?"

"Yes."

"Remarried to Secretary Roslin only days after meeting her?"

"Yes." Technically true in this timeline.

"Not the typical beginning to a happy marriage." Adama's eyes narrowed.

"I love my wife. We're happy," he growled in a gruff voice.

"An elite politician trapped into marriage with a Tauron whose family has mob connections?"

"Maybe I wasn't clear. I love my wife and I only want her back." He was surprised to hear the crack in his voice. The stoic persona was slipping, but his emotions were churning underneath his cool exterior. He felt a fierce need to have his beloved wife back and that combined with his sharp irritation at anyone who dared question his love for her or what they meant to each other. He thought of the onyx pendant he'd given her which marked her as his soulmate in his Tauron culture. He'd found it on the bedside table in the shallow dish she kept it in while she slept with drops of blood on it. He might not always have the words to express how he felt, but Laura was his world. It felt like part of him was missing.

Inspector Sloan dragged him through the dirt with questions about his marriage to Laura, pointing out how Fleet marriages were notoriously difficult. Sloan wanted to know why they'd married so quickly, and how two people of such different social standings were a supposed love story. Adama growled his answers out, trying to ignore his lingering fear of being a failure as a husband the longer Laura was missing.

My husband will find me, she'd said. He knew she'd have completely believed her words. He closed his eyes and calmed down. Inspector Sloan had finally left, and Adama was ready to rejoin the fight of find his wife. He marched out the door.

"Nothing new to report," Saul said when his friend emerged from the interview room. The Colonel leaned against the wall, waiting. He'd been observing everything that was going on in the station. "No one has any idea where to start looking."

"Even we don't know where to start, Saul," Bill said, moving to where his kids were. "Laura's been missing for days, we know who took her, and there's no way to track them." They both knew that with every passing moment, the likelihood of her return grew weaker.

"Bill, she's strong. Stronger than any of us could have ever imagined when we first met her. She'll hold on until we find her," Saul assured him, grabbing his friend by the shoulder as they paused outside the room where the Adama children waited. "You will find her."

Saul let Bill walk into the room first. He wished he knew what else he could say or do. He would readily admit that he wasn't the kindest or nicest man to be found in any galaxy. He was crass, cross, and a drunkard. But he did try to be a good friend to those few people he counted as his friends, and Bill Adama was his best friend.

In CIC, when he'd seen raw misery spread over Bill's face when he was told of his wife's kidnapping, something broke free in Saul's mind. It was like a piano hitting the first resounding chord in a familiar song. The Colonel's memories began returning, rising to the surface of his mind like bubbles breaking free of water. He'd seen that look of grief before in a time long past, and soon the memories of that life came rushing back.

Saul knew his friend needed him, so he'd handed CIC over to the Officer of the Watch and rushed after Bill to Caprica. His best friend wasn't going to endure this alone. Truth be told he hated the thought of something happening to Laura as well.

…

Awareness crept into Laura's mind as she drifted back into consciousness. She shivered. Cold penetrated every inch of her body, seeping into her bones. The icy touch of fear poked at her thoughts. Gathering her courage, she gingerly opened her eyes and found herself still submerged in darkness. Only a faint light revealed the iron bars of a cell. She bit her lip to keep from whimpering; she was terrified and in pain. Her stubborn determination wouldn't allow the Cylons to see her weakness.

Her whole body hurt from the beating she'd taken during the abduction. Her arms felt like a million needles were sticking into them from the restricted blood flow, a result of having them bound so tightly behind her back. There was no way she could tell how much time had passed. Long enough that her disappearance would have been discovered, she hoped. She prayed to the Gods that Liam was safe.

The darkness pressed down around her, and she tried to block out the memory of New Caprica's detention centers and its screams of tortured prisoners. Instead, she thought of Bill, needing to be comforted by thoughts of her loving and determined husband. Her eyes filled with tears. She imagined the pain and distress he would be slammed with once he learned what happened. She remembered how desperately he'd wanted to stay with her. If only, she thought.

Biting back her groan of pain, she finally managed to pull herself into a sitting position.

"Nice of you to join us, Madame Secretary or Madame President. Not sure which you prefer." She twisted toward the direction of the voice, but the movement caused pain to surge through her body. She felt dizzy. Squinting through the bars of her cell, she saw two humanoid Cylons peering at her; a One and an Eight. "We have some questions for you," Cavil said. Laura set her jaw and refused to say anything.

…

On the news, President Adar was addressing the press live from the steps of Caprica City's Police Headquarters.

"We are continuing the search for the Secretary of Education, Laura Roslin, who was abducted from her home. This is a difficult and painful time for the colleagues, friends, and family of Secretary Roslin, and we ask for the continued cooperation, thoughts, and prayers from the people of the Twelve Colonies. Colonial forces will continue their search for our missing Secretary, and they will not stop until she is returned safely. If anyone has any…" Kara seized the remote from the table and flicked the TV off.

"No one needs to hear that prick right now," she snapped, tossing the remote on the table. Her agitation flared. She was Starbuck; when danger struck, her job was to face it head on from the cockpit of a viper. She needed a target

"That…prick…is trying to help," Adar snapped, his voice lashing out unexpectedly from the door. His entrance had gone unnoticed by the tired, grieving family in the room. "I wouldn't talk about your Commander-in-Chief like that, cadet."

"Not really concerned with talkin' pretty right now," Kara snapped back, not caring that she was glaring at the most powerful man on the Colonies.

"Kara," Saul warned, catching the young woman's eye. The non-verbal order was clear; stand down. Kara pursed her lips and turned away from Adar.

After deciding to ignore the girl's attitude, Adar's eyes swept over Laura's family gathered in the small room. He was baffled at how the sophisticated woman he knew had gathered such a group of misfits around her and willingly called them her family.

"We have everyone looking for her. Police. Fleet. Everyone," Adar began in a low voice. "I've ordered no expense spared."

"Thank you, Mister President." Adama said. He didn't care who found Laura, as long as she was found. Taking a deep breath, Richard closed the door behind him and addressed the group.

"We should talk," he said. He searched for the right words. "Cylons," he spat the word out. "You think it was Cylons, don't you?" he asked. Lee's eyes shot up from where he sat in the corner of the room with Liam asleep on his lap. He was the only one who looked surprised.

"The kid says he heard metal men," Saul spoke. "There's not many metal men I know. And Cylons would have easily been able to overpower her guards."

"But this didn't happen in your timeline?"

"No. Cylons never committed any violence during the interwar period," Adama reported. Adar's mind contemplated the phrase 'interwar period' and shuddered at the implications – the possibility of another war coming.

"Not everything is happening exactly as it did before. There's changes," Kara said, folding her arms.

"OK, OK, I can't wrap my mind around the time travel talk," Adar said, holding a hand up to stop anyone else from speaking. "Let's keep this simple. Cylons might have taken Laura, but the last thing I need is a planets-wide panic over the possibility that they've returned," he stated. "There's a new lead. I want you to take your Battlestar and follow up on it. We'll keep it military and classified in case it is…." Adar couldn't seem to say the word Cylon again. He looked at Adama. The man's eyes widened at the possibility of a lead. "Your family can make use of the guest quarters in the Presidential mansion," he continued, and he watched amazed as a quick set of wordless communication exchanges happened between the members of Laura's family. However rag-tag they seemed; they were also in sync. A second later Adama spoke, his voice crisp and commanding.

"Lee, you'll take Liam and Zak to the mansion. Stay there and watch your brothers," he ordered then glanced over to Kara and Saul.

"We're with you, sir," Kara assured and stood at attention ready to spring into action. Adama nodded toward them and turned to Adar. "What have you got?"

Adar handed him a piece of paper.

…

Laura almost laughed at the absurdity of another aspect of her dreams coming true; the frakkin' metal chair she'd seen. She was tied to it. Whatever games the Gods seemed to be playing with her, she was sick of them. The proud woman refused to give into hysterics; Cavil would not witness his effect on her declining mental state.

The Cylon had questioned her for what seemed like days. Laura had lost track of how many times she'd screamed, whimpered, and begged her lack of knowledge about anything Cavil asked about. Her throat was raw. Her body was slumped in the chair, held in place only by the bindings tied around her, securing her to the chair. She seemed to have been granted a small reprieve in the interrogation. The Eight continued to watch her; apparently, she was there as witness for Cavil. The other Cylon had moved off to the side of the room and was working on something. Her mind was too tired and foggy to register what he was doing.

"The people called you a prophet, Laura. Remember that?" Cavil asked, moving back over to her and holding something in his hand. Her vision was unfocused, and her hair hung in her face. It was impossible for her to know what he held. A weak whimper passed her lips when the sudden sharp pinch of a needle pierced her skin. "Seems appropriate to give you this then. Chamalla. Oh, and a truth serum. Something I liberated from the military. Both should help loosen your tongue." The effect was almost instant. She could feel her grasp on reality fading away from her. The world became a distant thing. Her mind floated between consciousness and oblivion. Time was meaningless.

Out of the confusion, she heard Elosha's voice echoing out to her.

"Twelve, Laura. There are Twelve. Twelve Lords of Kobol on their Olympian thrones. Twelve planets for the Twelve Colonies. Twelve cycles of time. Twelve who remember each chosen and representing a Lord of Kobol to face the jealous God who meddled with time. Twelve who will shape this final cycle as we come to the end of the line."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I give you all a few answers and a mystery. May the guessing and theorizing commence.
> 
> Review!


	21. Twelve

This chapter alternates between *visions/dreams* and reality. Just to be clear.

…

***Laura found herself standing in her old classroom, and it brought her a strange sense of joy to be back. Stick figure drawings were tacked onto the quark board hanging at the back of the room. Each letter of the alphabet formed an artistic border at the top of the classroom's walls. It was colorful, cheerful. Little chairs and desks. Simple books. Her own writing on the chalkboard. She'd loved being a simple teacher. A melancholy mood settled over her as she walked through an isle of desks, running her hand along their cool surfaces.

"Do you know who the twelve Olympians are Laura? The twelve Lords of Kobol who sit on thrones upon Mount Olympus?" Elosha asked from the front of the classroom, her hands calmly clasped in front of her.

"Everyone on the Colonies knows the Twelve," Laura replied, used to Elosha in her visions.

"Name them. Like you once had your class recite their names," the wise woman commanded. Laura smiled at the memories of her students reciting facts at her gentle command. Days of the week. Basic addition tables. Lords of Kobol. She could almost hear young voices echoing their names with her;

"Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, Demeter, Athena, Apollo, Artemis, Ares, Aphrodite, Hephaestus, Hermes, and Dionysus." Elosha smiled at her, the proud grin of a satisfied teacher. The Priestess turned and wrote the names on the board, mirroring what Laura had once done for the children in her class.

"Do you know who you represent in this cycle of time?" Elosha asked as she wrote each God's name out.

"What?"

"I told you; twelve individuals will remember, and each of them will symbolize a Lord of Kobol. They will face the jealous God." Elosha finished writing the twelve names on the board and turned back to Laura.

"Why?"

"There is a reason. You will discover it in time," Elosha replied, and Laura sighed. She wouldn't get more information out of her puzzling friend and was too tired to prod; even in her vision, she felt an echo of the fatigue and aches her physical body experienced. She pushed it to the side, knowing that Elosha was imparting valuable information to her right now.

"So, twelve? I only know of Bill, Kara, Cottle, and me who remember." In the vision Laura felt her body tremble and knew her real body in the cell was still experiencing whatever Cavil was putting her though. "Bill has been referred to as Zeus before," she remembered. Zarek had called him Zeus condescendingly, but Laura thought the analogy was appropriate.

"Yes," Elosha laughed and turned to the blackboard, writing Bill next to the name Zeus. "Bill Adama represents Zeus." Zeus, King of the Heavens, God of honor and justice. He was a symbol of authority; a God associated with leadership and power. It does fit, Laura thought. She smiled; her determined, obstinate, and bull-headed Admiral. ***

…

Bill Adama thought about chance and probability. As the hours continued passing by and Laura was still missing, he knew that the chances of finding her had statistically dimmed. Statistics be damned. They'd made a habit of beating the odds together. After all, what are the chances he would find someone he could love forever, and that person would love him back with equal fervor and passion. What were the chances of him being given Laura not once but twice? Whatever his belief system was now, he knew there was something that connected him to Laura Roslin, and it transcended the physical realm. He'd find her.

Armed with the lead they'd been given, Adama, Tigh, and Starbuck had rushed back to the Battlestar Valkyrie. A tripartite of vengeance and fury before whom the crew scattered as they made their way to CIC. Determined. Unstoppable.

First came their official orders - handed down directly from the Office of the President. It officially stated that all previous orders were suspended, and the Battlestar Valkyrie with all its officers were ordered to follow Adama's command without question. The prevailing theory in media circles was that Laura Roslin had been taken by the Tauron Mob, with whom the Fleet regularly clashed anyway. Most of the crew seemed to believe the story, and between their loyalty to their Commander, hatred of the mob, and oaths to protect colonial citizens, they were more than happy to swoop in with their Commander be heroes. The word 'Cylon' didn't pass anyone's lips unless those who remembered were in a secure space.

Other messages came from Admiral Nagala and the Secretary of Defense simply reading, good hunting.

Bill Adama only cared about the message in his pocket which had been given to him by a puzzled President Adar. Bill pulled out the note and looked down at it. The white paper contrasted with the bold black ink which formed the words Adama was sure he had burnt into his mind now.

"I once promised to pay you back when it really meant something. After everything, I know I still owe you.

You once asked the question, why? The truth is, I don't know why I made so many of the choices I did. There was greed, spite, and jealousy. But I loved my family. I know it's time to accept responsibility for what I did. After all, sooner or later, the day comes when you can't hide from the things that you've done. Hopefully, I'm making a choice right now. She's here. There isn't much time.*

I'm sorry."

Underneath the typed message was a set of coordinates.

…

***"I'm supposed to be Hera, right? Wife of Zeus? Is it because I'm a mother and not a fighter?" Sarcasm dripped from Laura's words. She was too feminist to appreciate being reduced to mother and wife. Elosha looked at Laura and scoffed out loud.

"You're as much of a fighter as your husband. Hera is one of the fiercest of the Olympians. Even Zeus was known to fear her. And yes, you are Hera. For what did Hera hold most dear to her heart? You went to such great lengths to protect your people. You bent regulations, broke rules, and snubbed morality to keep your Fleet, humanity safe – to keep the people you held dear alive. Because what does Hera value above all else?" Elosha asked, gazing at Laura as if the story of Laura's life was written in her green eyes, and Elosha was reading it with ease. The Priestess stood at the front of the classroom in her colorful robes and her chin raised, waiting for the other woman's answer like a patient teacher.

"Family," Laura replied with a wave of understanding. She hadn't meant to find a family on Galactica, she hadn't meant to become the unofficial mother of the Fleet, and she certainly couldn't have foreseen becoming the Adama family matriarch; but she had. The memory of two laughing sisters flashed in her mind, then her parents, her sons, her adoptive daughter, and her husband. Family had always been what Laura held most dear; it was why she had suffered so greatly when members of it were taken from her. Family; her strength. Her weakness. Hera, known for her anger towards those who crossed her, loved her family deeply and protected them fiercely.

Elosha smiled and turned to the board, using her chalk to write Laura next to the name Hera. ***

…

Exhaustion overwhelmed Laura's body from her constant struggling against the bindings tying her in place. Tired. She was so, so tired. When tears began flowing freely down her cheeks, she felt humiliated. She felt even lower when great heaving sobs eventually tore from her throat.

…

*** Laura was picking up crayons off the floor. When she'd taught kindergarten, it seemed like there were always things kids had knocked to the floor. Small children were not the most careful group of individuals in the world; it was why she'd only brought glitter into the classroom once. Hideous stuff. She groaned as she felt the distant pressure of a headache and the faint feeling of a scratchy throat. Her physical body was screaming out in protest if Laura could feel it this badly in her dreams.

"What about Kara?" Elosha prompted, bringing Laura's attention back to her as she brushed the chalk dust off her hands. Laura thought for a moment, ignoring the pain.

"Kara…Artemis, right? The huntress?" Laura could see Starbuck being paired with the Goddess of the Hunt. At the front of the classroom Elosha looked like she was ready to laugh.

"Close, but you have the wrong twin."

"But," Laura thought for a moment, quickly finding an answer to the riddle, although it didn't feel quite right. "That means Kara represents Apollo. That's…" she felt a snort of laughter burst from her and heard Elosha chuckle as well. "That's hilarious. Just proves the Gods have a sick sense of humor." Elosha frowned at Laura's disparaging comment against the Lords of Kobol and drew herself up to her full height, short though she was.

"Apollo, the God of the heavens and the God of prophesy. A god who rules destiny. Kara always dominated the skies when she flew in her viper, and her life was ruled by destiny. She held the arrow of Apollo too," Elosha explained. Laura's laughter turned into a frown. She hated the words 'destiny' and 'prophesy.' She was now feeling very sober. Elosha simply turned and wrote Kara next to Apollo. ***

…

The vessel they approached was Tauron in origins, and the Valkyrie's sensors showed the smaller ships engines were damaged so badly that they were practically adrift in space. The small ship ignored all hails.

When DRADIS had picked up the vessel at the coordinates Adama had been given in the unsigned note, Kara's nerves had gone into overdrive. The urge to jump in a raptor, head over to the ship, and start cutting through bulkheads was powerful. Her whole body was ready to spring into action, but she waited for her orders. They came swiftly; gear up.

In the arms locker, Kara Thrace was suiting up alongside the most elite marines the Battlestar Valkyrie had to offer. The battle hardened and combat seasoned marines kept their mouths shut at a young cadet suiting up with them. They knew better than to question Adama, and he'd ordered the girl to join them. However, when they saw her hands deftly and expertly moving over the equipment and snapping every piece of gear into place faster and better than any of them, they began to wonder just who the new crazy girl was.

Fully geared up, Starbuck stood with the team on the hanger deck. All the marines knew what a typical soldier fearing battle looked like. Their faces turned ashen and pallid. Their bodies became shaking bags of bones. They would grip their weapons so tight that their knuckles would turn snow white. None of the soldiers assembled did any of that. Neither did Kara, they noted. No shaking. No shuddering. No smell of fear and sweat. There was just icy fire blazing from her eyes.

…

***"Who does Doc. Cottle pair with? Not Aphrodite surely?" Laura joked. She was sitting cross legged in the reading space she'd once created for her young students. Her legs were too tired to hold her upright, but her mind was still sharp.

"Ahhh, Doctor Cottle." Elosha grinned. "You'll never guess which God he pairs with. He's seen more battles than the rest of you. There are countless injured soldiers he's tended. Bones set. Bullets removed. Wounds fixed. Cottle represents Ares. The God of War. He is both soldier and doctor. He has seen war and bloodshed like few others have." Laura slowly nodded as she thought about the connection. It made an odd sort of sense to her.

Bloodshed and destruction were always associated with Ares. The God Ares was often disliked by the Colonials because he represented the brutality found in war. Doctor Cottle had seen far more than his fair share of violence. His patients were the physical repercussions of war, and their fear and anguish his reality. Yes, it made sense. Elosha wrote Cottle in the appropriate spot. ***

…

Doctor Cottle strode across the hangar deck and boarded the raptor. He plopped down in the seat next to Adama, who had joined the raiding party as well. Commander Adama opened his mouth to speak, but Cottle beat him to it.

"I'm going. That's the end of it," the Doctor growled. Adama regarded the older man for a split second and then nodded. Cottle pulled out a cigarette and lit it right. He waited for some unsuspecting idiot to ask him to put it out, but no one was stupid enough to bait him. Harrumph.

Jack never prayed. He very rarely hoped. He didn't make wishes. His job was based on science. Cause and effect. Tests and results. There were odds and statistics. To him the human body was a machine, and he was a specialized mechanic.

He prayed that Laura would be ok.

Roslin was a good person and a good friend, even if she was the most stubborn woman he knew. He didn't know what condition they'd find her in, so he was damn well going along to give her care as soon as possible. At the end of the day, he had no cure for mortality. The human body has limits, and there was only so much he could do.

…

***"So, there are eight more out there who remember!?"

"Or who will eventually remember. I think the one associated with Poseidon has awoken. Remember, this is the final cycle of time, and, as it continues, the twelve will help shape it." Laura suddenly dropped to the floor as her body felt a wave of pain go through it. "It's hard right now, Laura. You are a fighter though. Stay strong and remember what you've learned. Now, it's time for Zeus to be reunited with Hera." ***

…


	22. Always

Saul Tigh was an agent of chaos, an expert at causing disorder and disruption. A hurricane. The crew had seen him embody these traits before when their XO's irritation turned on them. This Tigh, they knew, was something else entirely.

"Keep them distracted," Commander Adama had ordered before he left to join the strike team. Colonel Tigh had snapped off a salute and quickly formed a plan. He ordered ship to ship communication and began making diplomatic efforts to communicate with the Tauron vessel. Now, Tigh was no diplomat, and he was certainly not a born negotiator. However, his 'attempts' were an effective diversion; especially, when he resorted to threats. If the vessel, and whatever Cylons were on it, were worried about what the deranged Colonel might do to them, they weren't worrying about a strike team already underway.

Meanwhile, one of the Valkyrie's raptors floated in space over toward the enemy ship. They'd cut almost all power to the raptor a split second before it cleared the hangar bay of the large warship. As a result, DRADIS wouldn't pick them up. The raptor drifted forward, using only their lingering inertia. That combined with the smallest bursts from their engines allowed them to maneuver alongside the Tauron vessel. Starbuck sat at the controls of the ship, her brows knit in concentration, as she employed all her skill to use as little fuel and power as possible to keep them from being detected. The rest of the armed passengers sat in absolute awe. The raptor connected with the other vessel and established a hard seal on the hull.

Carefully and quietly, marines began cutting through the metal. Adama wanted the element of surprise on his side. His mouth was pressed in a hard line as he watched his men work. His throat was dry in anticipation. He watched a marine weld through the bulkhead with narrowed eyes. Seconds? Hours? Minutes? Moments stretched into eternity, and an eternity seemed like a second. Finally, they breached the hull.

The first marine disappeared through the opening.

"Clear," his crisp voice reported back to the team. Soldiers poured through the opening they'd created. The Tauron vessel was dark. Lights flickered overhead. Metal bulkheads rusted. The floor was grimy. Stale air. Cold. It was not a well-maintained ship. No wonder it was having engine problems according to scans. Adama wondered if a friend had helped with that. The unit remained alert. It was a ship one might find in a salvage yard. The Cylons had probably taken it from the junkyards in order to have a more covert means of moving about the Colonies.

"Smugglers love these old ships. Dark. Plenty of places to hide," one of the marines whispered as they took position. "Keep your eyes open."

"Move out," Adama commanded.

Cottle stayed beside his CO, the two older men in the middle of the strike squad. The unit moved together like a well-oiled machine. They checked high. Checked low. Nothing. There was no sign of enemy resistance. The men and women kept their eyes and ears alert and ready. There was nothing in the shadows. No one to be heard. It didn't take long for them to stumble across the makeshift holding cell.

"She's here!" a marine reported when his light pierced through the bars and swept over a woman lying on the floor. Her red hair caught the light; a dead giveaway as to who she was. Adama, Cottle, and Starbuck were instantly at the bars and looking for a way in. Bill held his breath; her form was still. Pale. Starbuck examined the room with her light.

"Looks clear."

"Laura…Laura can you hear me!" Adama called through the bars. His heart thundered in his chest, and his muscles were tense. His eyes swept over his fallen wife. Her chest rose and fell. Breathing. She was breathing. "Laura!"

"Bill?" Her voice was the faintest of whispers. He couldn't even be sure she'd said anything.

"Get it open!" he barked. His men were already working on welding through the lock. The flying sparks didn't alarm her at all; she made no move to recoil. Her body remained where it had been abandoned on the cold floor, sprawled out as if someone had simply tossed her there. Adama clenched his fists.

"Secure the ship," he ordered the other soldiers.

They moved off immediately. Adama couldn't look away from his wife, his eyes looked for any signs of injury. She appeared whole. Trapped for those moments on the other side of the bars, Adama felt helpless. If he could have torn the bars down himself, he would have. Anything to get to her. The second the lock broke, he and Cottle surged through the door.

"Laura!" Bill breathed her name like a prayer, reaching down and brushing the hair away from her face. His thumbs caressed her cheeks. With a gasp of relief, he saw her eyes flutter open. Their gazes connected, and he saw the recognition and relief flood into the green depths. Her instant trust and love took his breath away.

"It's alright, Laura," his voice was gentle and reassuring, despite his stress and anxiety. "Cottle and Starbuck are here too. We've got you now." With great effort, he tore his eyes away from her and looked to Cottle.

"She can be moved," Cottle's rough voice reported after his examination. "Some physical injuries, and she's been injected with something." Bill turned back to his love. Her lips twitched as if she wanted to speak, and her eyes fluttered with the difficulty she was having keeping them open. She moaned in pain.

"These," Starbuck said, holding up syringes from a nearby table where she had paused during her sweep of the room. She pocketed them, knowing Cottle would want to examine their contents.

One of the marines stepped into the doorway, reporting that the bridge had been sealed off and that the engines were overloading. Adama nodded. The damn Cylon bastards must have sealed themselves off once they knew marines had boarded the ship.

"Bill," he heard his name whispered in a dry cracked voice. "…found…me." Her eyes closed, and she slipped back into the land of unconsciousness. He pushed the anger to the side; they had what they were here for. He had his wife. There was no need to risk lives by staying longer than necessary. He slipped his arms under Laura and stood.

"Let's go," he ordered. With the engines overloading all of them were in danger. They retreated. The unit rushed back to the raptor, leaving whoever had barricaded themselves on the bridge to their fate. When the Tauron vessel exploded, the raptor was safely away.

…

Cavil woke in one of the dreaded baths of goo. He hated the resurrection process. He always felt the harsh burn of death, and in the moments of resurrection the pain seemed prolonged in his mind. Maybe that's one of the reasons why he was such a grumpy old man - the terrible memory of death's sting.

Destroying their vessel had avoided detection by Colonial forces. He'd known it was too soon for the Colonials to discover the presence of Cylons within their borders. He didn't know why the damn engines had given out though. He slammed a fist on the rim of the tub, causing the Cylons surrounding him to jump back startled. She hadn't talked. She hadn't broken. Nothing had been revealed to either the Cylon Centurions or the Eight model he'd taken along to finally witness the moment his story was corroborated. Nothing that could help prove his story and get the other models to listen. Laura Roslin resisted too well.

…

"How is she?" Saul asked. Once he'd secured the situation and they'd stood down to condition three, Saul had gone down to sickbay himself. When he saw Bill, he sympathized for his best friend who sat in a chair beside his wife's hospital bed, holding her hand. Bill kept unnaturally still during his vigil. He had eyes for no one else but the woman in front of him.

"Stable. Cottle's keeping her unconscious…they…" Bill took a deep breath, ordering himself to keep his substantial anger under control. "They drugged her. Chamalla and… military interrogation drugs," he growled.

"Frak," Saul muttered. Sweet Lords of Kobol, he thought, looking at Laura in horror. Military interrogation drugs - they weren't pretty.

"Cottle can't be sure what her psyche went through," Bill explained, watching his wife closely. Her eyes darted back and forth beneath her eyelids; her mind was active. Caressing the hand held in his, he waited for her to open her eyes. She's strong, he assured himself. She'll be ok.

The lingering content in the syringes Starbuck had grabbed allowed Cottle to identify the substances in them. The medic was furious when he'd realized what she'd been subjected to. He'd hurled the syringes across the room, and they'd smashed against a wall. He didn't feel any better.

Saul wasn't sure there was anything he could say or do to truly help Bill. They were both military - well trained soldiers. There was no way they could pretend not to know what the drugs might do to a person. The training Bill and Saul had undergone for interrogation techniques meant that both knew how these military concoctions potentially shattered a person's mind. Experience taught her lessons well, and they'd seen hardened criminals break under the drugs. There was no way to know Laura's state until she woke, but she'd recognized Bill. That was good news.

Laura breathed deeply, but her skin was ghostly pale, her auburn hair a tangled mess. The beeps of the heartrate monitor kept their steady rhythm. Everything was suspended in a tenuously stable state. Even Cottle's familiar cigarette smoke lingered in the air around them, and it filled Bill's lungs as he drew a ragged breath.

"She was in the cell next to mine on New Caprica. She ever tell you that?" Saul asked, taking up a position on the other side of the bed.

"We never spoke about New Caprica actually," Bill admitted.

"What?! All that she…" Saul shook his head and looked down at Laura. She had her secrets and kept them well. Sparing many of the details, Saul passed the time by telling Bill about times on New Caprica, and what they'd endured under Cylon occupation. Recounting some of the days they'd been in detention together, Saul shared moments when Laura tried to keep his spirits up, all the times she never broke, and even the memory of the when she'd slapped him. That earned a rueful smile from Bill. Saul grinned at Bill. "Your sweet schoolteacher could have a real mouth on her. I can't even repeat some of the things she told the Cylons to go do without blushing," Saul said, and it earned him a shadow of a laugh from Bill.

Saul trailed off. There were many stories left unsaid, and Bill tensed again, his brows furrowing hard. On some level, he knew what had happened to them all down there, he just never realized to what degree. But without being there, he never could. Putting a hand on Bill's shoulder, he assured the Commander that CIC was covered to stay with Laura. He left, giving Bill space to worry over his wife alone.

Cottle emerged from his office and came over to check on Laura's readings. He'd done this every few minutes, fanatical in his care. The medic nodded, satisfied with what he saw.

…

They'd received word that Colonial One, the original and far more ostentatious version, was enroute with President Adar aboard. Bill hadn't noticed when the rendezvous would be. Time had lost its meaning. He'd quickly gone to his quarters to splash water on his face and change clothes. Before heading out, he'd also grabbed a book. Its familiar weight and meaning brought a heaviness to his heart.

He read to her. His deep voice reverberated through sickbay. Meanwhile, the lingering interrogation drugs were making her dreams unpleasant. Every few minutes, she moaned and cried out. Words fell from her lips; disjointed, filled with fear. Bill felt horribly powerless as his wife anguished in whatever nightmarish land trapped her mind. His voice seemed to sooth her, so he kept reading. Watching her suffer felt physically painful for him too. The danger of love; he hurt because she hurt.

His voice only faltered when President Adar walked into LifeStation and rushed to Laura's side. The President's face was a mask of concern and agitation. The last thing Bill wanted was the man around Laura. Ordering the Valkyrie to rescue her was a point in his favor, but her recovery didn't need the inevitable stress his presence would provoke. Bill stayed at his wife's side, guarding her. His loyalty, love, and devotion would not allow him to leave. Instead, he planted his feet in a solid stance and regarded Adar with narrowed eyes. There was no mistaking the posture of a protective husband, but he extended a cordial greeting.

"How is she?" Adar asked, slipping a hand around her limp one. The President stared down at Laura as if she were a rare and precious jewel recently returned.

"Stable," Adama murmured, his gaze having dropped back down to the figure on the bed. Both men were startled by Laura's voice breaking through the room.

"I don't know…I don't know…" her head was thrashing back and forth. Cottle heard the monitors readings change and raced over to check on her.

"The drugs she was subjected to are causing her to have dreams, hallucinations," the doctor explained, barely casting a look in the direction of the most powerful man on the Colonies. He adjusted the IV and drip, before looking at her readings again.

"I'm sorry," Laura moaned, caught somewhere between hallucinating and dreaming. A plane between memory and nightmare. Both Adar and Adama were trying to whisper soothing words without decking the other man.

"Bill…have to go… have to let me go…can't keep me forever…" she murmured in her sleep. "Not afraid to die…let me die…Let me go…Have to let me go, Bill," she continued. Adar's eyes widened at Laura's words. He listened to more fear filled bits of information escape. He looked up at Adama with a horrified expression. "Death warrant. Cylons coming…"

"You are safe now," Bill assured her, and Adar's eyes snapped to him. Death warrants and Cylons? He wanted to ask, but he didn't want to know the answer.

"Death meaningless…ambrosia down…Bill." Adar's heart was thundering in his chest at what he was watching and hearing. His mind didn't know what to make of everything.

Meanwhile Bill's heart was breaking. He knew the memories her mind was reliving. Cancer. Cylons. Dying. Nightmares and visions. Their arguments. Her words reminded him of several conversations they'd had as the cancer slowly claimed her life. He blushed scarlet red in shame when he heard her moan about the ambrosia.

"…burn…Pythia…burn…" Bill's hands tightened around the small hand he held.

"You're back on the Colonies, Laura. Remember?" Bill asked.

"You're going to be fine! I'll do everything in my power to help," Adar promised. Cottle looked between the two men who tried to comfort her and noticed Laura's heartrate increasing. The doctor snapped. His patient's needs came first.

"That's it. She was doing better until you came in here. I want you out. I'm throwing you out. Get out!" he yelled, looking at Adar.

"I'm the President of the Colonies, and I'm staying," he retorted defiantly. He put his hands on his hips and raised his chin, silently asking what Cottle could actually do to him. Adama narrowed his eyes, but before he could do anything, Cottle's harsh voice filled the air.

"I'm the Chief Medical Officer of this Battlestar, and you are distressing my patient. Marines!" Cottle and Adama felt a surge of pride when the marines stepped forward without question. Loyalty. Adama had always inspired loyalty, but so had Cottle. The good doctor could also inspire the fear of the Gods, and Adar was left with no chance. He threw up his hands in surrender and moved away. He eyed Adama as if waiting to see if he would be thrown out as well.

"Don't leave me Bill…"

"Guess that means you get to stay," Cottle said, looking at the marines and giving them a sharp nod. The marines took a step toward Adar, but the man sensed what was happening. He scowled but turned on his heels and left the room. Serenity returned to the sickbay, and Cottle took out a cigarette as he watched the heartrate monitor return to a far better rhythm.

"You'd have thrown me out?" Bill asked after Laura had calmed down.

"…Hera…twelve…" A few last moans escaped her lips.

"You frakkin' know I would if I thought it was in her best interests. I'd have the guards haul you out and throw you on your ass without a second thought," Cottle huffed, taking a long drag of a cigarette. He'd gone through a pack already that day. His hands remained steady, but his insides felt shaky at what he'd just done to Adar. He was satisfied with Laura's settling state, although she still mumbled incoherently.

"Never built it…clear as glass…" Bill's chest felt hallow as he realized what she was dreaming about now. He bent over and kissed her forehead before whispering in her ear.

"I'll build it for you one day, Laura. Our cabin. However big or small you want it."

"Amazing how much still think about it …little girl…our girl…"

"Think about those dreams, Laura. Dream about our cabin. We'll live there one day. Our sons will visit. We'll read to grandchildren by the fireplace. I'll build our cabin right by the perfect lake. We'll have picnics right by that water as clear as glass. Sunrise on the porch together. It'll be heavenly," he continued whispering to her until she'd fully settled.

…

After a few more hours the drugs were mostly out of Laura's system. The rest of her injuries were healing well. Now, they were waiting for her to wake up in her own time. Cottle remained in his office nearby, resting his head on the desk. Exhausted. Going to his quarters again was out of the question for him, not until Laura was clear.

Bill's voice filled sickbay.

"'the raft was not as seaworthy as I'd hoped. The waves repeatedly threated to swamp it. I wasn't afraid to die. I was afraid of the emptiness I felt inside. I couldn't feel anything, and that's what scared me. You came into my thoughts. You filled them. It felt good…'"

"I love you too," a soft whisper caressed his ear. Bill's eyes snapped up from the book to Laura, and he saw her tired green eyes staring tenderly at him. The familiar sparkle of love radiated from their depths, and his heart leapt.

"Laura!" he exclaimed hoarsely; his voice tired from the hours of reading. He jumped to his feet and took her hand as she reached out for him. She smiled. It was like the sun breaking through the clouds after a long storm. Beautiful. Radiant. Then, her face fell as reality crashed into her.

"My son! Liam! Oh Gods the Cylons!" she cried, her eyes widening in panic. Gasping in pain, she tried to get up.

"He's fine! Laura, he's fine. He's safe," Bill assured, holding her down on the bed by the shoulders. Her body trembled with fear and panic as she remembered the Cylons coming and needing to hide their son. Her breaths came out in shallow gasps as she struggled for a moment against her desperate husband. "Laura, you're both safe! Lee has Liam and Zak on Caprica. You're on the Valkyrie right now. I promise all the kids are fine. All of us are safe now," he promised her over and over as her gaze darted around taking in her surroundings. He repeated his words over and over and watched the truth settle over her.

"Oh Gods, Bill," she whispered, and he felt her body shake harder as the memories came back. Carefully, he wrapped his arms around her, knowing that she liked being held and finding comfort in her partner. He cradled her to his chest and felt her hands gripping his uniform. She whispered his name over and over from where she'd burrowed her face against his neck.

"I'm here, we're safe now," he promised again and again, until her breathing evened out.

"You found me," Laura croaked, feeling tears of lingering fear and growing relief slide down her cheeks. This wasn't a hallucination. Bill gently eased her back onto the bed, sliding his hands down to hold both of hers.

"I'll always come for you. Kobol. New Caprica. Cylon Basestars. Time jumps. Always," he promised, in a voice deep and gravely.

"Thank the Gods," she said, giving his hands a squeeze. His warm hands holding onto her gave her something to focus on; his firm grasp letting her know she was safe and loved. "My husband, the hero," she teased, her voice dry and raspy.

"How do you feel?" Bill asked, helping her take a drink of water. He leveled a look at her, raising an eyebrow. "The truth, please."

"I thought of you. Your smile. Blue eyes.…" she murmured, purposefully ignoring his question and fiddling with the gold band on his finger she'd placed there years ago. He pulled her fidgety fingers back into his grasp, stilling her movement. He'd seen the shadows lingering in her eyes.

"Laura, I've known you over a decade now. Been married to you for a chunk of that time. I can read you pretty well," he warned and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. The gesture was gentle and tender, the simple move of a loving and devoted husband. "How are you feeling?" he asked again. Laura's eyes fluttered closed, and she sighed.

"Sore," she admitted. "Hurts everywhere. Gods. It was awful, Bill!" she said, and her voice began to tremble. She told him about being abducted and interrogated by Cavil. Her nightmares. Flashbacks. Everything poured out of her.

"There was a vision I had. A new one. Like the ones I had when on chamalla. Elosha said twelve people would eventually remember, like we did," Laura recalled, but she'd tell Bill more about it later, when she felt more coherent.

Bill hated the visions. When they came, it reminded him of chamalla, cancer, and times he'd rather forget. It scared him; the idea of Laura as prophet. What scared him more is that he'd started to pay attention to some of her visions. Actually, it didn't scare him, it terrified him. Fate, destiny, and prophesy were words that always seemed to ask for a cost in blood. He looked down at her hand in his; it trembled slightly. She would steady in a few days, but Bill could never forget a time when he knew the tremors would never go away. A time when the people's Dying Leader was also his woman, his Laura, who was dying.

"You said twelve will remember?" he asked, wishing whatever gave her visions would leave her in peace. That everything would leave her in peace. "Saul remembers," he said, keeping his emotions out of his tone.

"I'm glad. It will be good for you," she murmured. She thought back to what Elosha had said. Poseidon remembers. The corner of Laura's cheek quirked in a small smile; Saul must be connected to Poseidon. Of course, the beloved brother of Zeus. Ruler of the seas and known for being bad tempered and moody. The Gods really do have a sense of humor, Laura thought.

"You're awake!" A new voice broke through life station, and they turned to see President Adar walking up to Laura's bedside. Bill heard Laura's exhale of breath, and her grip on his hands tightened. He knew her subtle body language, even though the polite smile she wore on her face might suggest she was pleased by the newcomer's presence.

"Keep it brief," Bill growled; he did not care whatsoever that he was talking to his Commander-in-Chief. Laura was his priority. He noted her lack of admonition to him, it was only a further sign of how tired and shaken she was.

"Can you give us a moment?" Adar asked.

"No," Bill immediately replied. Laura nearly snorted with laughter at Adar's affronted look; she had needed that laugh. She wondered when the pampered president had last been denied something he wanted. She quirked an eyebrow at Bill. Her husband the caveman. Sure, he had a warship instead of a club, but there were times he acted like a caveman.

"I don't think either of us are ready to let the other out of our sight," she said honestly; her husband's presence was one thing helping her keep her grasp on reality and her fears at bay. She saw slight happy twitch in his features. He agreed.

"I wanted to see how you were doing. Is there anything I can do for you?" Richard asked. He was incredibly concerned after hearing her incoherent mutterings. His mind raced to several conclusions after hearing Laura's words; what had Bill done to Laura in their timeline? She sounded as if she'd wanted to get away from her husband, and Richard would do what he could to help.

"Cylon's hospitality is as bad as I remember," Laura replied, licking her dry lips and swallowing hard at her failed attempt at levity.

"You've been captured before?" he realized, watching Laura recoil at the mention of her captures. Her jaw tensed and she refused to meet Richard's eyes. "It's really is true…all of it." Something finally clicked in the President's mind as he looked between Laura Roslin and Bill Adama. There was something he could do for his friend. He would call for a meeting between himself, his Secretary of Defense, and Admiral Nagala soon. It was time to prepare.


	23. People Change

The Battlestar Valkyrie lingered to survey the wreckage of the Tauron ship, but the destruction was near absolute. There was no information, no proof, nothing to be gleaned from the wreckage. The warship cruised back toward Caprica alongside Colonial One. As they traveled the ship quietly entered night mode; shifts ended, the lights dimmed, and crewmen slipped into their bunks after finishing their games of triad.

Sickbay was calm. Quiet. The atmosphere was like someone had let out a sigh of relief after holding their breath for too long. The blue curtains closed around each patient in a quiet embrace offering reassurance and privacy. No specter of death lingered in the air that night - all of sickbay's patients were out of danger and recovering well; a knuckledragger with a broken bone recently set, an overly intoxicated rookie pilot hooked up to fluids (Adama would have words with him later), and Laura. For a moment, they were safe.

In darkened sickbay, Bill's chin slowly dropped down to his chest, until he jerked awake when his head completely fell forward. Each time this happened, he straightened in his chair, rubbed a hand over his tired face, and checked sleeping Laura. Then he'd look down at the book in his lap, flip a page, and the cycle started over again. After this process was repeated several times, Bill caught a pair of loving green eyes watching him.

"Bill, you should get some real sleep in a bed," Laura urged, and her voice was rough from sleep. Her tone was filled with concern but laced with compassion and understanding. Her heart warmed at his clear devotion and love that wouldn't let him leave her side, his actions saying what he didn't always have the words to. It still humbled her that she'd won his heart. "You need rest too," she pushed gently.

"I'm fine," he grumbled. Laura arched an eyebrow, observing the dark circles under his eyes, the weary stoop of his shoulders, and the deep lines of concern on his face. They really needed to work on their definition of 'fine'.

"Not leaving," he pushed back firmly, seeing her about to protest again. He pulled himself to a standing position and stepped over. There was the distinct pop of several protesting bones. He ignored them and leaned against the edge of Laura's bed to be closer, tucking the blankets around her body.

"You're going to hover no matter what, aren't you?" she asked, sounding resigned. Bill frowned; he knew Laura didn't always respond well to being smothered. But he couldn't bring himself to leave her just yet. She needed to understand.

"Laura, I just spent days afraid that I'd lost you again. And damn it!" Laura's eyes widened at his fierce change in tone. "Life without you… I experienced that agony once. And I can still remember it so clearly; feeling like someone had ripped my heart out; knowing I'd have given anything to hear your voice again; waking up alone after dreaming of you…" Bill growled, stopping when he saw Laura's eyes widening at his uncharacteristic display. He sighed, seeing the guilty tears welling up in Laura's eyes. She nodded slowly and then moved over on the hospital bed.

"Ok... Ok. I get it. I do," she conceded. "At least try and sleep too," she compromised, motioning for him to join her in the spot she had made. He opened his mouth to protest but saw her eyes narrow. He knew that expression. He pitied the fools who'd tried to tell her 'no' when she got that look in her eyes. Besides, Cottle would tear him to shreds if he irritated her.

He watched the corner of her lips quirk into the smile that he loved when he began unbuttoning the wool jacket of his uniform. He slipped it off and rested it on the back of the chair before climbing into the narrow bed behind his wife. She breathed a contented sigh when he wrapped an arm around her.

"Laura?" he asked and heard her hum in response. "Why didn't you ever tell me about what you went through on New Caprica. You said they wanted to talk. You never mentioned..." his voice trailed off, unwilling to voice the horrors he was imagining she'd lived through. There were things Saul had alluded to that troubled him.

"Well... they did want to talk. It's just that… I didn't. The Cylons don't like not getting what they want." Despite her attempt at levity, Laura shuddered at the memories she'd tried to bury. "You never actually asked about New Caprica," she pointed out, and it had always hurt her that he hadn't. But she knew how guilty he felt, so she never volunteered information. They moved on, or, tried to. "Then, you voted to acquit Baltar after you knew he signed a death warrant with my name on it and over 200 other people. Did you think a Cylon firing squad was the worst thing to happen down there? The only bad thing? That only military people like Saul and Kara suffered?" The words tumbled out of her mouth like sand through an hourglass; there was no stopping it once the glass was tipped. She pushed her face into the pillow willing the memories away.

"Sorry," Bill murmured, hugging her close. He kicked himself for bringing that cursed planet up while she was recovering, but Saul's words caused the planet to fill his mind, making him dwell on New Caprica. "I should have asked these questions years…"

"I didn't want you to feel guilty Bill," Laura cut him off.

"I did though. Still do." He sighed. "You're still mad at me about the acquittal vote?"

"I... I don't know. Yes and no. I just try and put it all behind us."

"I never, never, wanted you to be hurt," he promised fiercely, pressing a loving kiss to her shoulder. "It all spun out of control."

"I know."

"You still have nightmares about New Caprica don't you. Those nightmares you try and brush off without telling me?"

"Yes," Laura sighed. They had agreed after that first fight of their marriage - no lies between them in this timeline. No secrets. Bill had fumbled when he'd hidden the letter, but she'd forgiven him. One mistake in years of honesty. The vulnerability that real honesty required had given them an intimacy neither had ever known before.

"I want to know, Laura," he said.

The silence stretched for a moment between them. Laura tensed at his request. There were unspeakable horrors New Caprica had wrought on her, her friends, and her people. It had been easier to try and put a lid on those memories and move on, but those months lingered in her unconscious mind. Maybe it would actually be easier to share the burden.

"I'll tell you, someday," she conceded before yawning. She burrowed deeper under the blankets and closer to Bill. Her body was still stiff and sore from her ordeal, but there was comfort and contentment to be found in her husband's embrace. Pressed together she felt warm and loved. She yawned again.

"Sleep," Bill ordered in his husky voice. "The Valkyrie will reach Caprica tomorrow, and I'll take you home. To our family."

….

The house held no trace of an attack. Bloodstains were gone. The jagged shards of broken glass were swept away. Furniture had been put back in place. The rooms were once again a shelter from the outside world, and a place that held happy memories. Despite the attack, this was where Laura felt safe; this was home. Although, her heart also knew her home was ultimately a person - Bill Adama. It was possibly the most valuable lesson she'd learned at the end of the worlds. But this house was where her family gathered; the rag-tag group of people who shared and understood each other. The people filling it were loving, supportive, imperfect, and deeply connected. And they were overjoyed at her return.

All three Adama boys practically threw themselves at Laura the second she came home. The warmth of several hugs surrounded her. At her surprised grunt, they pulled back, making sure they hadn't hurt her. Their father had warned them to be gentle with their recovering but sore mother. Liam only gave her a second of breathing room before he couldn't bear to be apart. His little arms wrapped around his mother and refused to let go despite the soothing words she whispered into his ear.

None of the boys let her out of their sight for too long, and Laura was doing her best to tolerate their smothering until they were ready to ease up. They'd been rattled, especially Liam whose nightmares had him shuffling into his parent's room at night. Eventually, things returned to normal, although Laura's poor son ended up crying giant crocodile tears when he was told it was time for him to go back to school. Lee and Kara returned to War College, but only after both were satisfied with the new and larger security detail provided to Laura. Zak returned to high school; he didn't enjoy the celebrity status gained from having his stepmother in the news.

Saul Tigh spent a few days with the Adama family, adjusting to having regained his memories. After he spent enough time alternating between teasing and strategizing with his best friend (having been brought up to speed on their efforts to avert the attacks), he reported back to the Valkyrie.

Granted leave by the Fleet, Bill Adama, much to his displeasure, also had to report back when his time was up. He spent his last night home gently and tenderly loving his wife. Her own love was reflected in every gesture, every touch, and every caress. In the early morning they held each other tight, feeling each other's breath and heartbeat, both eternally grateful they held the love of their life safely in their arms again.

….

Somehow peace could never be maintained between the Adama males. Usually it was minor scuffles, easily talked out after their Tauron tempers cooled. They were all infuriatingly opinionated, proud, stubborn and angry.

Even Liam had started showing these particular Adama traits. One time he had emphatically decided vegetables were a curse upon the Twelve Colonies and wanted only Tauron noodles for every meal. Bill was pleased that another son enjoyed his favorite food, but Laura was less than thrilled. She nearly erupted after coming home one day to find Zak and Liam in tears; they'd tried to figure out who could endure the spiciest of Tauron noodles.

Adamas; proud, stubborn, bullheaded, and opinionated. And they certainly didn't like being wrong.

It started with a weekend. In general, weekends were something to look forward to in the Roslin-Adama household. Weekends meant Kara or Lee might slip away from War College to come home. Weekend liberty meant that Bill was usually able to return. Liam and Zak didn't have to go to school. Saul (and maybe Ellen) or Cottle might stop by for dinner. Weekends meant time with family; smiles, laughter, relaxation, and happiness.

There was nothing remarkable about that Saturday afternoon. Cloudy. Mild. There was homework for Zak and Liam, and Laura was stuck with some education paperwork. Kara hadn't been allowed to leave War College; apparently verbal sparring with instructors during class, and calling them a frakwit, was a good way to get confined to campus. Lee was home. So was Bill.

There was a book. Lee was sitting on the couch bent over his tome in concentration. The book itself was almost unremarkable. A simple paperback with not even an image on the front, just a cover of deep maroon. The only noteworthy aspect someone might note was the lack of a title or author to distinguish it. But it had clearly captured Lee's attention, he barely observed anything going on around him. He didn't notice when his father sat down next to him. Lee's eyes stayed fixed on the pages, enraptured by the material.

"What's the book?" Bill asked, surreptitiously looking at the cover and not receiving any answers. He narrowed his eyes when he saw Lee jump at his presence, and a crimson blush creeped up the young man's face. Lee glanced up and met his father's curious gaze, shifted uncomfortably, and looked away. Red flag. Bill knew Lee's tells for when he was doing something his father would not approve of. "Leeland Adama. What's the book?" Bill pushed.

Lee recognized his father's tone and grew irritated with his persistence. So, he decided to hand the book to his father and damn the consequences. Lee was proud and refused to be ashamed of what he found fascinating. Crossing his arms, the younger Adama watched his father put on his new glasses and thumb through the first pages. Lee fidgeted again but remained silent, clenching his teeth together.

Once Bill's eyes fell on the title page, he felt a heat flush through his body, and his hands turned into fists while still holding the book. Beside him Lee tensed further as well, readying for the now inevitable fight.

"How dare you bring a book by that…terrorist into this house," Bill Adama growled in a low voice. Lee felt a chill run up his spine; this was his father's dangerous voice. Bill's eyes turned and fixed on him, and Lee saw their angry glint.

"He's a freedom fighter," Lee immediately countered.

"He's a godsdamn frakkin' terrorist, and I will not have it in this house!" Bill said, his voice raised. Lee jumped to his feet and stood with his hands on his hips. Both heard a pounding in their ears and felt the blood rushing through their veins.

"This is just like you dad. You always hate every opinion that goes against yours!" Lee shouted back. He glared at his father. Distantly both men heard a woman's voice telling someone to go upstairs. Bill rose and squared off against his eldest son.

"Tom Zarek's opinion has no place in civilized society! There's a reason the book is banned," the older man snarled.

"He's got good ideas on politics and law. And he should be allowed to express them! The law gives us freedom of expression! Or is that only for people who have thoughts that you like?'' Lee taunted his father. Proud, stubborn, and angry.

"Out," Bill hissed, turning away. He heard Lee scoff and storm away. Taking deep breaths, Adama paced the living room fuming. His hands twitched wanting to lash out and hit something. Tom Zarek – the man who'd lead a mutiny on his ship. His stomach churned at those memories. His own men and women turning on each other, betraying him. That day left its scar on Bill's heart and mind. If he ever saw Zarek again…

Bill caught sight of the woman lurking in the doorway watching him. Her eyes were wide as they observed, as if not quite sure what to make of what she was seeing. To be fair, Bill hadn't exploded like this in a long time. His wife's concerned expression caused some of the fight to melt away. He collapsed on the couch, running a hand through his hair. A few moments later, he felt the couch dip down beside him and one of Laura's palms rest on his back. Her other hand grasped his, and their fingers laced together. Bill's body still thrummed with anger, but he took deep breaths to try and calm down. Beside him Laura was quiet; memories of a man named Tom Zarek plaguing them both.

"You know he only gets more determined the more you two fight," she said and kept her tone soft and gentle. It washed over her husband like a soothing wave, and she heard his resigned sigh. Her hand ran over his back in a comforting caress.

"I can't believe he was reading frakkin' Zarek. That man is full of crap. Always was," he growled. He felt Laura's grip tense, and her head rested against his shoulder. He leaned into her and felt the shudder go through her body. Memories.

"Do we judge people based on the choices they made in the future we experienced? Part of me wants to. If I ever see Zarek again... he told me, you were dead. When he said that...it felt like my world shattered." Bill felt her tremble again, and he murmured soft reassurances to her until she was ready to speak again. She swallowed hard and continued. "In this time, he hasn't made those choices, yet," she said. Despite the softness of her voice, Bill could hear the tension. The conflict between what was right and smart.

"He's still a terrorist."

"Yea, he is."

They sat in silence for a moment, deep in thought.

"What if Zarek remembers? What if the next people who get their memories back are people like Zarek, or Gaeta, or Baltar? Adar? Dee? Bill? Would it be better or worse for some of them to remember?" she asked, remembering her latest dream. Elosha had told her Athena was awake. There was just no way to know who else had awoken and who would awake.

"At least we remember," he said, squeezing her hand. They sat together in companionable silence on the couch, supporting each other.

"Bill, go and patch things up with Lee. Even if you don't agree with him, he's your son," Laura said, giving him a look, which might have said, I'm not impressed with you right now.

Lee was in his room, angrily throwing his old pyramid ball in the air while lying on his bed, when he heard his father's knock on the door. Lee was sorely tempted to tell his father to go away but settled for glaring at the Old Man when he entered. The glare melted away when the younger Adama saw the lack of anger on his father's face. Bill hadn't come to finish the fight; it looked like he'd actually come to talk. Lee watched his father clasp his hands in front of him and adopt his typical neutral stance. Predictable Bill Adama. It was almost formulaic.

"I don't have the right to tell you what to read," Bill said in the calmest voice he could manage. "However." His voice took on a hard edge. "I don't want the book in the house. Read it if you want. But not here."

Lee eyed his father. He'd known reading Tom Zarek's book wouldn't earn him any Pyramid points with his father, but the sheer contempt that he pronounced Zarek's name with resonated with Lee.

"You knew Zarek didn't you? In that other time?" Lee asked.

Bill considered his son for a moment. He and Laura hadn't told Lee many of the finer details of the future. With all the work they were doing, they hoped it was averted now. There was also lot they didn't want to talk about; this was one such topic. Lee wasn't going to let it drop though, so Bill took a deep breath and replied.

"Yes. He… hurt Laura and me. Caused a lot of pain," Bill explained vaguely, but Lee could sense a dark story behind the words.

"That hasn't happened yet though. Things change. He could be different"

"Not that different," Bill scoffed.

"Why not? You're different," Lee argued, frowning and looking away from his father.

"Not that much."

"I know to you it may not seem like you have. But you have. And, I'm happy about it. But...it's like suddenly one day you became the dad I had wanted you to be for years. You started coming home for shore leave. Instead of working in your study all the time, you and Laura took us places. Museums, beaches, pyramid games. And... you started laughing. After you married Laura, everything changed. It was so sudden, but I get it now after you explained everything. Still, one day you were different," Lee said.

Bill hadn't realized how radical the shift had been to his son. He also hadn't realized how changed he was; how much his failures had forced him to reevaluate his life and who he was.

"After that timeline, I wanted to be a better father. The father you and Zak deserved," Bill said simply.

"It's been great dad. Really. But you aren't the man you remember," Lee argued and paused, letting his words sink in. "You used to say, 'a man is not a man until he wears the wings of a viper pilot' remember?" Lee asked, and Bill nodded. It was distant memory now. "You stopped saying that nine years ago. Things can be different. People can change."

…

The Cylons huddled around their meeting table. All models were represented. The Ones sat scowling but quiet, backs bent in shame. The Threes talked in overly animated gestures. The Sixes spoke louder and louder to be heard over their Cylons sisters. The Fours observed with an almost detached curiosity. The other models had a range of reactions. Together they made an impressive display, a mix of outrage and disbelief. However, unity prevailed when they sat down and cast their vote. It was unanimous.

They decision was passed down. The Cavil who claimed knowledge of the future would be boxed. The other One models had avoided this fate by disavowing their brother. It would just be the memories of that One, Future Cavil, boxed. One strand of memories sealed away. He'd proven to be too dangerous. He'd risked detection.

The Eight who'd witnessed the events recounted it to the Cylon council. The facts were laid out; the kidnapping of a member of the government in the middle of the night, allowing Centurions to walk along Colonial streets, and torture. Her story made it clear: Future Cavil was out of control.

When they came to box him, Future Cavil raged and yelled against his brothers and sisters. Most of what he said made little sense to the others. As his eyes began to close during the boxing procedure, he looked to the other brother Cavils and uttered one final sentence.

"You'll know I was telling the truth when the First Hybrid is found. He has it!"

After his eyes closed, the Cylon Council convened again to discuss their plan; the destruction of the Colonies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Review away! It makes my day!


	24. The Fleet

The ballroom was opulent and grand, adorned with velvet curtains and ornate Virgon carpets. Sparkling crystal chandeliers shone with dimmed light while the people underneath sipped from champagne flutes. It was a splendid room for a political shindig.

Richard Adar, President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, ambled through the crowd. He always grasped at any chance to shine, and a satisfied smirk graced his lips as people came up to him all through the night, wanting to shake his hand and talk. It wasn't even a party thrown in Richard's honor; it was a retirement party for the Secretary of Defense.

It was almost mythical in his mind; the coming conflict. It weighed on his conscious. The President wasn't the only person present aware war was coming; Laura Roslin and Bill Adama were also in attendance. It was partly their fault there was a retirement happening at all. Secretary Trevitt was someone who thrived during peace but couldn't handle the pressure of a coming war. After their warning and Laura's abduction, Richard had decided to pursue avoiding the apocalypse aggressively.

Laughter drifted out from the groups Laura and Bill conversed with. Laura's ability to put people at ease and exude warmth had people gravitating toward her. Loathe as Richard was to admit it, his own eyes kept wandering to his Secretary of Education. He told himself he couldn't help it; her appearance was breathtaking and her story unbelievable.

Richard felt sick to his stomach whenever he remembered the genuine fear in her eyes as she recounted the day the world ended. Even her voice had trembled. The very idea of the future she experienced left a sour taste in his mouth. It also left him determined. He, Richard Adar, wasn't going to be the President who watched the Colonies fall. Instead, he anticipated himself becoming the hero who'd prepared his people to face the Cylon threat.

To that end, he had already begun subtly shifting military policy from preserving peace to anticipating war. Preparations needed to be made. The Fleet Admiralty had been delighted with their President's sudden interest. The older members of the Fleet remembered the first Cylon war. They remembered the men and women dying under their command.

President Adar's smile faltered for a second as his gaze lingered on the man standing next to Secretary Roslin. He watched him whisper into her ear and the giggles burst from Laura's lips. It pierced his heart. Despite everything, Richard's feelings for Laura had never changed. If anything, they'd intensified; especially, since her abduction. His heart yearned for her, and his hands itched to grab her and whisk her away from the reticent husband at her side.

Richard's mind refused to let go of the things she'd mumbled in her delirium during recovery. Her words painted an unpleasant picture in Richard's mind. What the hell had happened in this future she remembered? She'd begged her husband to let her go. She'd asked him to put down the ambrosia. It caused him to question after her well-being.

Despite his curiosity, Richard forced his attention away from them. He needed to work. Conversation continued to flow around him, and he laughed and nodded at the appropriate times, sipping at the never-ending flow of champagne. His body began feeling warm and fuzzy as he lost track of time. As his inhibitions lessened, his mind meandered once again down its own path.

What secrets was she keeping? What knowledge did she keep to herself that he could use? Nowadays, his mind was on overdrive with such thoughts and questions, and it didn't like not being certain of the answers. Maybe it was time to risk getting some straight answers from her. Enough champagne could make a man daring.

Throughout the night, Bill and Laura stayed side by side. Bill's affection for his wife trumped his distaste for pomp and ceremony, and he'd agreed to accompany her (as he always did). Her wide smile of appreciation had been thanks enough. The constant loving smiles she sent him throughout the night, each of which made his heart race, made the party even enjoyable. Their little accidental touches, hands brushed together, or bodies pressed too close, made the time seem to fly by. Subtle flirtation, they still enjoyed it after being married for years.

Bill wasn't a fish out of water this time at a political party, there were plenty of defense personnel present. It was another reason he was glad he'd come. This was the time to rub elbows with some of the most important people in the military. The opportunity to network and make connections was too good to pass up; they might prove useful one day. Bill was still no socialite, but years at Laura's side had taught him a few social tricks and graces.

Late in the night, Laura lost track of the conversation around her. She smiled and politely excused herself. It was time for a break from the crowd. The ballroom had an expansive terrace with bushes of red Caprican roses. Her favorite. She slipped outside, leaving the noisy politics behind her. The cold night air hit her skin and awakened her dulling senses. She took a deep breath and smelled the delicate scent of roses. When she heard footsteps behind her, a smile graced her face. Bill. Of course, he would follow her. She felt two hands come up and rest on her shoulders. She leaned back and felt someone's breath close enough to stir her hair.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Laura?" Richard asked in a soft voice; she jumped in surprise. Pulling away, Laura turned and saw it was indeed the President of the Colonies who had followed her outside and not her husband. He looked relaxed but confident.

"Well enough," she replied, folding her arms. Richard wandered closer to her. It felt as if liquid courage ran through his veins. He was feeling sure of himself. Brash even.

"You're radiant tonight. People keep looking at you, captivated. And you've charmed every person around." His gaze was almost burning in its intensity, and it swept over her. "Irresistible," he murmured softly. Laura met Richard's gaze over the rim of her glasses clearly unimpressed. Then she noticed the slight flush on his cheeks and how he'd loosened his tie; all telltale signs he'd had enough to drink. She suppressed a groan.

"I don't know what you mean," Laura deflected and tried not to blush in discomfort from his compliments. He'd clearly had enough champagne, and she knew his bodyguards would be escorting him home soon as a result.

"I think you do. People are curious about who Laura the woman is underneath Secretary Roslin. Is she as passionate in real life as she is when talking about educational reform? Is there a secret vixen behind the polite politician?" he flirted, taking a step closer to her so that he could speak in increasingly lower tones.

"They'd have to ask Bill," she said, and her voice had an edge to it. She hoped the mention of her husband would be enough to get him to back off, knowing it would be useless to confront him over his inappropriateness. The fine line she walked, keeping Richard close but not too close, left her reeling sometimes. One day she'd no longer care about his opinion or her job. Right now, she would hope this was just the champagne talking, and he'd be too embarrassed to mention any of this again.

At Bill's name, Richard did tense, and irritation flared in him. Laura once had a choice between him and Adama. He'd lost. Richard Adar wasn't gracious in defeat; he never had been. He was wealthy. Powerful. Sophisticated. Cultured. But his little schoolteacher, the woman he himself had handpicked for his staff, had suddenly run off. She'd chosen a scarred, stoic, Tauron man who never particularly impressed Adar. Why?

"I can't stop thinking about this other timeline of yours. A timeline where we were together." He didn't notice her as she slowly moved away; his mind was too focused on trying to charm. "It seems you like the idea of having powerful men in your bed."

"Lucky me, I have a powerful man in my bed," Laura shot back, itching to slap him. His words hit too close to old rumors she'd endured. Besides, Laura was in no mood for her tipsy boss to flirt with her or his huffing at the mention of her husband.

"I have so many questions I want to ask you, Laura. Do you ever regret the choices you've made? Have you ever... tried to make a better choice because of your knowledge, only to realize that it was a mistake?" Richard asked, pushing for answers. He watched Laura intently, and looked for any sign or clue to give him more information. It was so dark he could barely see her, so he pushed closer into her space. Soon, Laura felt herself trapped between her boss and the bushes of the garden. She stood up straight and raised her chin.

"I don't do regret," she said, realizing how like Bill she sounded. It made her tempted to smile.

"You don't have to stay with him," Richard proclaimed, undaunted and pushing on. "Just because he's someone who remembers this other timeline like you do. I get it. It must have been scary and lonely to suddenly have these memories. I believe you though. I'm here for you. We could be together like in your other timeline," he soothed. I can protect you, he thought. I won't hurt you.

She pursed her lips as anger pulsed through her, warming her body from her toes to her head. He'd just crossed a line.

"You're right, it was terrifying to suddenly have those memories. But I had him, and he had me. I was damn thankful we found each other," she hissed, and her voice grew thick with emotion. Every word she spoke was now carefully annunciated. "I will never leave Bill. Ever. I love my husband. Deeply. I never want to be without him." A memory flashed in her mind of Zarek telling her that Bill Adama had been executed. "I couldn't bear it," she admitted, and her voice cracked. She tried to take a deep breath, but a tear slipped down her cheek at the flashback. She shivered. Richard stepped forward, concerned, and tried to pull her into a hug. She shoved him away.

"No… no!" she said, shaking her head.

"Leave her alone." A deep voice cut through the night air. Bill had walked around the corner to see Richard reaching for his wife, and her violent response. His blood boiled at Laura's clear agitation, but he stayed composed for her sake. The glare he sent Richard was intimidating enough that the man swallowed hard and felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Bill marched over to them.

Laura met him halfway in the blink of an eye, murmuring that nothing happened. He quietly assured her that he believed her; Laura would not have let anything happen. She was strong and feisty enough to take care of herself, and Bill trusted her completely. That didn't mean he wasn't ready to throw Adar out an airlock the second he saw the weary look in Laura's eyes, the tired tilt of her shoulders, and the trace of a tears on her cheek. Instinctively, he opened his arms, and she immediately stepped into his embrace.

Bill was thoroughly sick of the creep's antics. He poured every bit of anger, every bit of protectiveness, every bit of irritation into the look he leveled at the President. It was a clear message; back off. Adar's eyes narrowed, but he took a step back.

Laura lingered in the embrace, despite being in a semi-public place, murmuring what happened while still in his arms; Bill's primal urge to protect his beloved wife took over. The glare he gave Richard was proof the Commander didn't need words to get his meaning across. My mate, frak off. Or else. Laura once told him he was like a caveman with a Battlestar. Maybe someday he could club Adar over the head before airlocking him.

"Let's go finish working," she whispered. There was still work to do at the party; connections to make, friendships to solidify, and a future to work against – no matter how weary they were.

…

The twilight minutes between sleep and wakefulness when Bill was home were some of Laura's favorite moments. They could lie tangled together in bed and the rest of the world seemed far away. Under the blankets it was just the two of them in their own universe. In the minutes before sleep claimed them, they had some of their best talks, and he often made her giggle. On those nights when Bill was home, right before sleep claimed her, Laura often felt little butterfly kisses across her skin, or her hair carefully tucked behind her ear, gentle enough that she wasn't disturbed. No one would ever guess how warm and affectionate Bill Adama could be in private especially with his spouse.

But nights were also when Laura's mind was helpless. While sleeping she was defenseless against dreams, nightmares, visions, or prophesy. Images, unpleasant and unbidden, pushed into her sleep. Most of the time she never remembered what came to her. Then a rough night would hit. She'd toss and turn. A thin sheen of sweat would cover her skin. Sometimes she'd scream, and her own voice would wake her.

Bill woke in the middle of the night and instinctively reached out to wrap an arm around Laura. Blindly seeking out her body, it slowly became apparent to his sleepy mind that something was wrong. His hand found no warmth; the spot beside him in the bed was cold and vacant. He frowned and opened bleary eyes, sleep making them scratchy and heavy. He was home on Caprica, but there was no tangled mass of red hair on the pillow or the silhouette of curves under the blankets next to him.

She only left their bed at night when something was bothering her. Bill had learned her habits over the years, and even though he'd told her to wake him up if she was upset, she rarely did. Stubborn woman.

In the dark he made his way downstairs and found Laura where he predicted with her legs curled under her on the couch. She sat in the dim room, only having turned a single light on. It cast her and the room in shadows. He gave an indulgent shake of his head when he saw her wearing his robe. It was clear that she was lost in thought, completely preoccupied if she hadn't even noticed his approach.

"Laura what are you doing awake?" His deep gravelly voice startled her out of her reverie, and she watched him sink down beside her on the cushions close enough that they touched. She noticed his brow knitted in concern as he looked her over.

"Couldn't sleep. Couldn't sit still either. I didn't want to wake you."

"There a reason?" He prompted gently. Her lips pressed together in a slight frown. They'd visited the topic of what she saw at night enough times, and she was fed up with her visions and nightmares.

When the reply to his question didn't come, he sighed. Her reticence in answering was all the answer Bill needed. She'd had another one of her dreams, and it troubled her. Her shoulders were slumped, and her head bowed. Seeking to comfort her, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Don't you ever get tired of this? Having a crazy wife with crazy dreams and nightmares?" Her tone was bitter, and she refused to look at him.

"No," he said simply. "Never. And you're not crazy. We just don't always understand why this happens to you." There was love and concern laced in his deep voice. He kissed the side of her head and hugged her closer to him. It couldn't be easy enduring the visions and dreams that she did, he understood that. But her words and the bitterness in her tone surprised and troubled him. After a few moments Laura melted into his embrace, and he felt better knowing she was trying to relax.

"You haven't gotten a good night's sleep since you've been home, and it's all my fault."

"It's not your fault. No one can control what they dream of."

"I wish I could," she whispered, and it was like the faintest brush of the wind. He frowned and tried to read what was going on in her mind. He saw her gripping the couch, and the shadow of sorrow in her eyes.

"Laura?"

"I started dreaming about the twelve again. My dream said Athena was awake. But then it shifted. I dreamed about the girl. Our little girl. Again...It always seems so real Bill." She sighed and turned even further into his embrace. "We've tired, and we're not getting any younger. I know I'm running out of time."

"If it's meant to happen it will happen," he soothed holding her close. They had each other, and that had always been enough for him.

"Sounds a lot like fate or destiny Admiral Atheist." He was glad to hear a bit of humor in her voice even if he sometimes got irritated with the nickname. She did love to tease him.

"Do you believe in fate? Really?" He found himself asking.

"I guess I do. After everything." She rolled her eyes. "In spite of everything." She amended, and they shared a knowing look. "I think if there are things, we might be fated to do are they are things we'd have chosen anyway. Who knows? Maybe we were destined to be together, brought together by fate to play the roles we played. But I'd also always choose you. A hundred lifetimes - a hundred worlds - whatever reality. I'd choose you. Fate, destiny, and choice. It's all mixed up isn't it?" She gave him a soft smile as he looked into her eyes. Somehow, she'd surprised him again with her words. He knew she loved him but hearing how deep her love was still sometimes caught him off guard. For a moment he lost himself in her gaze.

Fate? Destiny? Choice? Whatever had brought them together he was glad. He'd always known there would never be anyone for him after Laura Roslin. He'd found a soulmate in her. He'd never love another woman the way he loved her. She was in his mind, his heart, and his blood (although no longer bittersweet and tinged with regret). Leaning over he pressed an affectionate kiss on her forehead.

"And you ask if I could ever get sick of you when you say things like that. I'm proud to call you my wife. Visions, dreams, and whatever else...I love you. That's all that matters."

…

Picon Fleet Headquarters. Laura's eyes roamed over the buildings. Everything was built out of dull gray concrete with no eye for aesthetics. Is this Fleet Headquarters or a bunker? Laura wondered. Everything was neat and ordered. Even the bits of greenery planted around the buildings to give a small touch of humanity seemed regulated; perfectly trimmed bushes and raked mulch.

She and her boys were only a small part of the crowds around headquarters that day; one of the many sets of parents, family, and friends who'd come to see the fleet's newest class graduate and become proud officers. The parade grounds had been transformed for the ceremony. Laura, Zak, and Liam had been escorted to the VIP seating. It was one of the perks of working for the government; she usually got decent seating at events.

Once again, Laura checked her watch and looked around but didn't see a familiar face. The fluttery feeling stayed in her stomach; she hadn't seen her husband in over two months. He'd been assigned an extended mission which had kept him away from home, and she was more than ready for him to be back. Just that morning they'd gotten a quick call from him, promising to meet the family there, but he was starting to cut it close.

Laura, Liam, and Zak sat in their seats and tried to be patient. At least there were distractions. A military band played from where they were set up off on the side of the parade grounds. Sometimes viper pilots and raptor pilots flew in formation overhead, granting the eager crowd a display of military strength and talent. A few officials present came to say hello to Laura, but most people present at a Fleet event weren't sure what to say to the Secretary of Education.

Laura looked around again, and a smile broke over her face. Bill wove through the crowd toward his family, and Laura watched his own smile grow when their eyes met. There was also the hint of a smirk in his eye; this was the slightly playful side of the stern military man she'd married. He was clearly in a good mood and happily greeted both of his sons. They were thrilled to see him, and each were hugged close. Bill refused to ever make the mistake again of letting his sons believe he didn't hold them near and dear to his heart. After listening to their excited chatter, which bordered on babbling, he asked them to let him greet their mother. With a sparkle in his blue eyes, he made his way to her.

"Missed you," he whispered in her ear. His husky tone caused her to shiver despite the warm Picon air. She couldn't have stopped the smile on her face even if she wanted to.

"Me too," she whispered back. "I love you." She finally let the words slip past her lips after a few moments when she'd drawn out their usual ritual for long enough, turning a moment into an eternity. Anticipation could be a fun game.

"About time." He placed a quick and gentle kiss on her lips before they sat down in their seats.

"It's been a long two months Bill…" she said, speaking in a quiet tone only he could hear. The boys were busy watching the skies and the formation flying.

"You whining?" Bill asked, feeling like tempting fate with his teasing. He did sometimes enjoy getting a rise out of his feisty wife. She scowled at him.

"I'm a politician. We don't whine," she said and then bit her lip after she realized exactly what she'd said. Bill let out a hearty chuckle.

"How many times did you complain about the Quorum's whining and begging?" He looked over at her and grinned. "Politicians whine and you know that."

"Fine. But at least I don't beg," she said, crossing her arms and refusing to look at him. Instead she watched the current flying display up in the sky. Bill hummed thoughtfully at her reply and raised an eyebrow. "Bill..." she growled.

"I have a meeting later with the Admiralty here on Picon," he said, needing to change the subject. He saw her frown.

Before they could continue their conversation, Liam provided ample distraction when he tapped on his father's arm and was practically bouncing in his seat. His face wide with excitement, and he pointed up to the sky.

"Look! Vipers! They're flying so close together," he exclaimed. He turned to his father. "Could you fly like that?"

"Sure. I don't fly much anymore though."

"Will you teach me?" Bill could almost feel the warning gaze his wife was leveling at him. He grinned at Liam.

"Absolutely," he replied. He felt Laura kick him.

"William," she hissed under her breath. At the use of his full name a small sense of self-preservation kicked in. They did teach survival tactics in the military.

"And if mom says yes," he added quickly. Bill felt almost triumphant when the boy's innocent and eager eyes quickly turned to Laura.

"Please mommy! Please," he pleaded, and Laura looked at them both over the rim of her glasses. "I want to fly vipers!"

"He's enthusiastic." A new voice broke into the conversation, and they turned to see a man in a crisp blue business suit, almost the same shade as the fleet uniforms, standing next to them. "Secretary Roslin?" The man asked.

"Yes?" She replied. Liam had fallen quiet and stayed next to his father.

"I thought I recognized you. I just didn't expect to see the Secretary of Education here at Picon Headquarters. I'm Kenneth Hector, the New Secretary of Defense," he introduced himself. Laura and Bill both stood, and she shook his hand politely.

"It's nice to meet you Secretary Hector. This is my husband," Secretary Hector turned to him and extended a hand.

"Bill Adama, Battlestar Valkyrie. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Secretary," he greeted politely. He'd never have met the Secretary of Defense in the other timeline, and it felt strange meeting him now. He knew Hector by reputation already. A former Admiral of the Fleet, he'd taught strategy and tactics as well. He was widely respected and considered a great leader.

"It's always nice to meet a commander in the fleet," Hector replied after noting the rank bars on Bill's uniform. He turned his attention to the two boys watching him. "And it's always nice to meet someone who likes vipers," he grinned at Liam who smiled shyly back.

"Our boys, Liam and Zak." Laura introduced. "And we have Lee who is graduating today."

"Ahh, you're here for a graduate. Who'd have guessed? The Secretary of Education in a family of fleeters," he teased.

"Not me," she replied with a small laugh, glancing at Bill. They shared a knowing look; neither could have guessed they'd share this life, and they were profoundly thankful they did.

"I hear our departments will be working together soon."

"There are rumors," Laura said, nodding. The smile stayed on Laura's face; she knew exactly what he was talking about. It was moments like this when the weight of her memories seemed particularly heavy. It was a reminder that the date of the attacks grew closer and closer. She felt Bill's supportive touch at the small of her back, reassuring and steadying.

"A military museum. Something to teach the people about the Cylon war," Hector said, conversing easily with her. He seemed a nice enough person. "I think it's a good idea. Something to preserve history and boost support of the fleet. The President seems keen on supporting the fleet right now."

"Well, I can't say the thought of another museum doesn't make me a bit happy," she smiled. Before the conversation could continue, they heard the Colonial Anthem starting, and the crowds stood to face the flags of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol being paraded out. Military personnel snapped to attention.

The graduation ceremony was beginning, and so their conversation was abandoned.

Laura and Bill's thoughts were drawn to a certain museum and a certain date. War on the horizon, meetings with the Admiralty, and museums about the Cylon War; it was as if destiny was coming for them.


	25. All of This

This was the restricted section of the Picon Fleet Headquarters. One didn't roam these halls without being invited to do so. There were no civilians, and only a few fleeters in these corridors. These concrete walls held meetings for special operations, darker missions. The atmosphere was appropriate for such meetings; the few windows didn't let in much light.

Bill Adama had to pass two different security checkpoints to be allowed access to this invite-only section of headquarters. This, of course, was easy for him. His military credentials were in the system, and a quick thumb scan proved who he was. He strode through hallways decorated with framed photos of different viper models, old admirals, and squadron insignias. Some of the paraphernalia was even interesting enough to catch the Old Man's attention.

It was easy for Adama to find the office to which he'd been summoned. He knocked on the hardwood door and entered when bid. When he saw the faces of the admirals, and who was present, his spirits sank. Admiral Peter Corman stood behind an oak desk in a dimly lit office, flanked by fellow admirals on either side. All three were grave faced and stern looking. These were the old men of the Colonial Fleet who the people of the Colonies considered alarmists. Even colonial servicemen called them warmongers; they were always talking about the coming war. The government, including President Adar, once demeaned them as fearful old men. But things were changing.

Adama saluted, crisp and formal, as he was expected and dropped it when it was time. Military rituals must be observed.

"Sirs," he greeted sharply. As he scrutinized the admirals, he noticed the faint smell of cigars and paper which hung in the air. This was the office of a man who shut himself in there for long periods of time, pouring over reports and occasionally allowing himself a stogie. Corman waved Adama over to a waiting chair, and the men all took their seats. Bill clasped his hands tightly in his lap and kept his body still, giving nothing away. The sense of foreboding weighed heavily on Bill's shoulders at what was coming. He rose above those feelings.

"Commander Adama," Corman greeted. They regarded each other for a moment; the traditional rituals of men sizing each other up must also be observed. Admiral Corman noted the sober and somber military commander before him and was pleased it seemed to match the descriptions in the reports and files he'd been given. They'd searched for a commander who was loyal, patriotic, and hard enough to take this mission.

"Commander, understand that this meeting never took place. There will be no record of this conversation, and no official orders will be made in writing," Corman spoke, keeping his voice level but intense. Adama kept his own expression schooled, giving nothing away. His discipline allowed none of the admirals to read what the Commander might be thinking. "Is that a problem?" Corman pushed.

"No sir," Adama immediately replied. After all, he knew what was coming and was only surprised at how early in the timeline it was happening. At one point he thought he'd refuse this mission if it was offered to him again. The burning shame he had once felt as a result of the botched operation had been enough for him to try and resign his commission. This time though the Cylons had stuck first. Cavil and centurions had kidnapped his wife and, in that act, had broken the peace.

"It appears the government has come to share our concerns over the possibility of another Cylon War. There will be some changes in the fleet, and we have a new Secretary of Defense who will be helping us prepare," the meeting began.

All this has happened before, and all this will happen again. Last time he met with these men they were giving him the mission because the government did not seem at all concerned with the Cylons. This was the same result even with opposite circumstances. Somehow, that thought made him uncomfortable. What end results might be inevitable despite their attempts at subversion?

"Do you believe the Cylons are still a threat? That a war is coming?" the admiral to the side asked. His narrowed brown eyes bored into Adama's. Bill knew he was being judged.

"Yes," he admitted with ease. He had always believed the Cylons were a threat, only temporarily vanished after the first Cylon War had ended.

"Do you want to do something about it?" Corman asked. It was one of those split seconds which were stretched into an eternity in Adama's mind. Preventing the apocalypse was what he and Laura had been doing for years. But, had this mission once helped cause those attacks?

"Of course," he said. The Cylons had already struck first, he repeated to himself.

The old men had looks of grim satisfaction at his reply. Corman nodded and continued speaking, outlining the parameters for the meeting.

Over the next hour the details of his mission were laid out. Corman kept eyeing Adama, but the Commander seemed neither shocked nor opposed to the mission. It impressed him. So did Adama's suggestion to use carbon composite material to coat the outside. The ships would be truly invisible on DRADIS, and the admirals made a note to pass that tip along to the building teams. Adama wondered if that little tidbit he'd picked up from the future would make the mission a success.

There was every reason to believe the stealth mission could work this time. The carbon composite had allowed the Blackbird to park right next to a resurrection ship, and the Cylons hadn't seen it.

"We may never have this opportunity again. I'm assuming you appreciate the consequences if you're discovered. And you understand commander, that his conversation didn't happen. Are you prepared for this?" Corman asked, needing to be sure.

A mission cloaked in gray morality and secrecy, but there was a war coming. The fact was that they needed intelligence. The pragmatic reality always seemed to fight against one's ability to make a morally right choice.

"Yes sir."

...

The couple walked together along a stretch of beach, Laura carrying her heels in her free hand. The taste of salt hung in the air, and the seagulls cawed noisily overhead while Zak and Liam searched for shells ahead of them. Lee was gone; he'd run off to celebrate with the other graduates. The boys were completely engrossed in their quest and didn't notice the subdued mood of their parents.

"Do you want to take off your shoes and play in the sand too?" Laura teased, trying to get him to smile. He didn't respond. "Bill?" she prompted, tilting her head to the side and regarding her brooding husband. It was a delicate balance, knowing when to give him space and knowing when to push. "It's that mission isn't it? The black ops one. They want you to go across the armistice line."

"Yea," he quietly admitted.

"All this has happened before, and all this will happen again," she whispered, shuddering so hard it seemed to shake her entire body. "What have we done Bill? It seems like we've sent the Colonies down the path that can only lead to war. Even if the attacks don't happen, are the Cylons going to ignore Richard building up the military?" she asked, shaking her head. She pressed closer to her husband as thoughts jangled around in her head.

"I don't know, Laura," he admitted. "We try and remember the things which are different. You and I. Zak. Remember when he told us that he didn't want to be a pilot?" He asked, and Laura smiled thinking of that conversation at the dinner table. Zak had been eyeing his father nervously all afternoon in preparation. He really wasn't sure what his father's reaction would be, but Bill was relieved.

"I'll admit I was shocked when he said he wanted to be a medic like Jack. The damn doctor was so pleased with himself when he heard," Laura laughed, smiling at the memory.

"Price we pay for letting the man come around for dinner so often," Bill muttered, unsure about how Zak wanting to follow in the footsteps of a grouchy, chain smoking, irritable, and grumpy medic made him feel.

"Bill, are you considering taking the mission?" Laura asked flat out. He sighed, although he did appreciate her straightforwardness. She wasn't one to beat about the bush, and he appreciated that. However, the boys chose that moment to approach them to show them their treasures.

"Talk later?" Bill whispered, and Laura nodded.

...

Later found the Adamas in their hotel suite. Laura had told Bill, in no uncertain terms, she was not flying late at night back to Caprica. Between the graduation ceremony and his meeting, they'd had a long day. Liam was still young enough that he didn't do well on long flights after long days; none of them wanted to face grumpy Liam. Laura also made it clear that she wouldn't be happy with waiting several more hours to be alone with her husband.

The boys had their own room in the suite, and they were settling down to watch a movie. Laura returned to her room after checking on them, closing the door behind her. Even though the lights were off, she immediately saw Bill sitting in a chair by the window. He had a faraway look in his eyes and seemed as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. He'd abandoned his uniform jacket, just resting in his tanks. The streetlights shining through the window reflected off the silver dog tags that he never took off, even when home. Leaving the lights off, Laura slipped over and gently began to try and massage some of the stress away from his tense muscles. She stayed quiet, waiting for him to speak when he was ready.

"What have we become, Laura? Have we grown too soft?" he asked. His voice was even deeper than usual, and there was a grave tone to it. Her hands continued working over the knots she felt, and her mind reflected on what he asked.

"We've been happy, not soft. That's all."

"The man I was when we first met wouldn't hesitate to take this mission," he countered.

Laura frowned at his words. She remembered the people they were when they'd first met. She'd been naive and idealistic while he'd been abrupt, difficult, and hardheaded. They had been proud and stubborn (although maybe that hadn't changed). Laura remembered them as they were when they first met; the days when they could barely tolerate each other, when they didn't like each other.

"Do you really want to be that man again? Is that the father you want to be to Liam? The husband you want to be to me? You've changed. We've both changed for the better. So fine, maybe we are softer. I know I am, but I know that's a good, good thing. It wasn't good how harsh and hard I became," she whispered.

"You're right," he grumbled, and Laura smiled at his admission. "I don't want to be that man again, but I also have to be a good soldier. I can't be weak." Laura started to understand where her husband was coming from. The need to be a warrior drove him, and if there was something that caused him to doubt that ability, it rattled him.

"No one would call you soft," she assured him. Laura continued her ministrations, feeling the muscles along his neck and down his arms slowly relax. He had certainly never stopped being a man of intense control and could only be this unguarded with her. "You certainly haven't gotten weaker just because you question orders. And please don't insult me by saying that a life with me has caused you to become weak." Bill caught the note of warning in her tone, but knew it was fair. "You've always been strong. A strong and good man," she said, and her voice was warm and filled with sincerity.

"I've never second-guessed accepting orders like this." he said; he'd been second guessing saying yes to Corman all afternoon. Crossing the armistice line was, no matter how noble, a breach of the treaty. An act of war.

"I don't know what the right choice is here for you. Just be sure of what you're doing. Because I remember when you came to my office with that resignation of yours and so much regret in your eyes. Is it wrong of me to not want you to have that burden?" she asked, dropping her hands from his shoulders to come around and stand in front of him. Her head tilted to the side as she watched him.

"It's a lot to think about."

"Yes, it is," she said softly and moved to sit on his lap. She traced feather light touches up his bare arms, following the lines of muscle there. She looked into his eyes. "I'm here to talk if you need. We share our burdens."

He rested his hands on her hips holding her steady on his lap, captivated by the tender, sincere smile she was giving him. His heart and body felt soothed by her attention. They took care of each other. She knew what he needed and gave it to him willingly; he felt a rush of warmth and affection for her.

"What did I do to deserve you?" he asked with a small smile. Grinning, she leaned in and kissed him, winding her arms around his neck. It was tender and loving. When she pulled back her green eyes found his.

"You loved me." He rested his head against her forehead, amazed that it was really that simple.

….

Space called her husband back to its darkness, and Lee was now posted to the Battlestar Chimera. The Valkyrie remained close to Caprica while they ran combat drills. The military, following Adar and Hector's orders, were building several stealth ships, and Bill's chosen pilots for the ships were training. They weren't supposed to be caught, but these drills aboard her husband's warship helped everyone to be prepared for the worst-case scenario. His proximity meant he was home a lot, but not that evening.

Laura was home curled up on the couch while looking over the initial Cylon War Museum proposal she'd been sent. This was it. This was the start of the museum which in her timeline had become the museum aboard Galactica. It was a project that had spanned years of her life. The document was light as a feather but heavy as a brick all at once in her hands, and it felt like she'd read it dozens of times.

All this has happened before, and all this will happen again. The words echoed in her mind. Suddenly someone knocked on the door causing her to jump, and her thoughts stilled for a moment. Laura knew her security detail wouldn't even allow anyone to touch the door unless they were a trusted person, so she pulled herself to her feet and answered.

"Kara...you have a key. Why are you knocking?" she asked, seeing who it was after opening the door. Frowning, she ushered the young blonde in. Kara was out of uniform, wearing a red T-shirt and jeans. It would have made her look surprisingly young, if there wasn't such a sad look in her eyes.

"Didn't know if I'd be welcome," she said honestly with a shrug. She alternated between looking Laura in the eyes and then down at her toes. The two sides of Kara Thrace were on display; the cocky confident viper pilot and the emotionally vulnerable woman. "I know the Old Man and Lee aren't here. But I didn't know where else to go," she admitted quietly. She usually only visited when at least one of the two Adamas she was close to were also present.

"You're always welcome here no matter what," Laura calmly assured Kara as she closed the door and flipped the lock. "What's going on?"

"My...my mom threw me out. We had an argument. I wasn't really thinking and just...headed here," Kara replied sheepishly. She now seemed determined to look anywhere but at Laura. However, Laura slipped an arm around the girl and guided her into the living room

"Your mother threw you out?" she asked in disbelief as they sat down on the couch.

"She's...it's complicated," Kara sighed. She hated the summer months, when there was a break in training. She usually had to go home, but that meant spending time with Socrata Thrace. But until Kara graduated and started getting a Fleet paycheck she was trapped at home. The younger woman was not forthcoming on any of this though, and simply stared silently at the papers strewn on the coffee table.

"Alright…" It was turning into an awkward and stilted conversation. The two women had not spent much time alone together, and what time they had passed with just the two of them usually involved a gun, a practice range, and avoiding a lot of memories.

"I don't want to talk about it," Kara snapped, feeling Laura's enquiring gaze on her. She knew the older woman was trying to read her, and, for some reason, that irked her.

"Alright. Why don't we talk about why you're uncomfortable coming here because it was just me home," Laura offered, calmly folding her hands in her lap. Instinct told Laura that it was time to rip the useless Band-Aid off whatever wounds were between them and try to treat the damage. Clearly, there were still plenty of figurative cuts and bruises between them.

"Because," Kara replied. Apparently, this conversation was going to be more difficult than herding cats. Laura folded her arms and snorted.

"Eloquent. You want to try and do a little better?"

"Why are you always so pushy?" Kara hissed, lashing out.

"Because sometimes you need a good push," Laura replied calmly. "Now, why did you second guess coming here when you know that you are welcome." The atmosphere practically crackled between the two women. Kara's desperation had driven her here, but she was wondering if that had been a mistake. The two of them were like a tinderbox, and Laura was throwing a match on it.

"You don't actually like me. You tolerate me because the Old Man calls me his daughter, and because I'm someone who remembers," Kara replied, and her voice wasn't angry or even accusatory, just resigned. Her words were spoken softly as if revealing a long-kept secret. She felt waves of heat pulse through her body, and she raked her fingers through the wild blond locks falling around her face.

"He loves you, that's true. But you're also making a lot of assumptions," Laura said, and she kept her gaze steady on Kara. She noticed the fidgetiness of the usually brash viper jock, and the way she kept swallowing. It was clear she'd been upset when she arrived, and her moodiness was only deepening.

"Why wouldn't you? I told you once that I wished I hated you."

"Do you hate me, Kara?"

"I…no…" Kara sighed. "I don't." She slumped on the couch, dropping her head on the back of the cushions. It was how a popped balloon might feel.

"I don't always like the choices you make and the crap you pull. But I do care about you," Laura said in her unique mix of warmth and cold honesty. "I think we both had a lot happen to both of us and between us. We never dealt with it."

"No. No, we didn't." Starbuck snorted; there was lingering bad blood between them. Neither could deny that. But there was also something pulling them together. "Why don't you hate me?" Kara suddenly asked, looking up at the ceiling. She'd grown very still after melting into the couch.

"We could ask questions like that for an eternity. Why? Why don't I hate you? Or Lee? Caprica? Gaeta? Sometimes, I even wonder how Bill didn't grow to hate me," Laura said. It was a train of thought she rarely pursued; how different things could have been. He could have grown to hate her; after all, they hadn't liked each other at first. He saw her as an uppity schoolteacher who became President (and technically outranked him). She had used his children, despite her good intentions, to betray him. She'd abandoned him and settled on New Caprica. There was the whole Hera debacle. She'd allowed him to get close, knowing her time was short. They'd had to deal with those issues in the first year of their marriage. The guilt. The tension. "Everyone had reasons to hate each other, but you make a choice" Laura said, and noticed Kara looking at her thoughtfully.

"Ok… but there were a lot of hard times," Kara huffed, folding her arms.

"Yes. Especially between us. So, come on," Laura ordered, standing and motioning for Kara to follow. In the time Kara had awoken there had been a never-ending stream of comments, remarks, and snark between the two women that touched on the history between them. However, for far too long neither woman had bitten the bullet and dragged the dragon that was their past out of its hiding place. With the past catching up to them, Laura knew it was finally time. This talk was happening.

Kara frowned and watched as Laura moved off. With a huff, she pulled herself to her feet and trailed along behind. They moved to the kitchen where Laura began retrieving the necessary items.

"Let's clear the air," Laura said.

"Clear the air? What we gonna sit down and duke it all out?" she asked. Her sarcasm, the classic Starbuck response to a dangerous situation, rang through the air. Laura rolled her eyes at the girl's predictability. She turned to Kara with a bottle of wine in one hand and two of her and Bill's special cigars in the other. At the sight Kara made a strange sound between a snort, huff, and a laugh.

"Come on. I don't do this often, but this could be a messy conversation. We might as well try and relax," Laura offered. If a night of booze and weed could change the relationship between her and Bill (a man she considered more stubborn than Kara), maybe it could do the trick again. Kara was just lucky she'd shown up late enough at night that Liam was already in bed; Laura would never do this if her boy was awake.

"The prim and proper Madame Secretary has the goods? Alright, color me intrigued," Kara grinned despite her moodiness. She found herself genuinely intrigued by this proposed experience, and she very rarely turned down either a cigar, booze, or a night to remember.

"I'm full of surprises, Kara Thrace. Remember that," Laura warned. The women slipped out onto the back patio. Under the stars the wine was uncorked and the stogies lit. They didn't speak right away; neither felt the need to rush their talk. When they first began a few comments about the wine and cigars were exchanged. When they both felt pleasantly enveloped in the embrace of wine and stogie, it was time to go. Laura, whose only weapon had often been words, fired first.

"So, the messy times. You don't have a gun right now so fire away," Laura offered, taking a long drag of her cigar. Kara took a swing from the bottle of wine. Somehow, it seemed fitting that they'd foregone glasses for this chat. It kept the conversation more down to the ground. Wine brings forth truth, and Kara let the words tumble out of her mouth.

"Kobol. Why me? Was I easier to manipulate?" Kara was impressed that she only sounded moderately bitter.

"No. It was clear right away that you were the best pilot and incredibly resourceful. It came down to who was the best person for the job," Laura replied matter of factly and shrugged. Truth was truth. She accepted the bottle Kara handed her and took a drink herself.

"And you really thought I was the best?"

"Weren't you?" Laura pushed back. She let Starbuck's own ego answer that question answered. If there was one thing Kara was sure of, it was her own abilities. She was the best pilot. That was true. She was resourceful. That was true. Kara accepted the point and moved on.

"What about Lee? You gave him a nickname! Gave him attention. Made him feel special, and he turned against his own father for you. Were you only manipulating him into doing what you wanted," Kara asked. Laura snorted at that. If she had such control over Lee, there were a few things that would have worked out differently, she thought. She chuckled mirthlessly, thinking of her old Captain Apollo, and took another drink.

"He was special; he was the first person on Galactica to be kind to me. He was the only one to respect me as President right away. And for the record, I didn't ask him to mutiny on Colonial One. In fact, I surrendered because I didn't want blood on his hands."

"I didn't realize that."

"Neither did he I think." They were quiet again, both looking up into the stars. Smoke swirled in the air around them.

"You didn't rig the election," Kara suddenly said. She'd heard the rumors that Madame President had plotted to seal the election from the frakweasel.

"And New Caprica is where a lot of your problems came from," Laura replied bluntly.

"I know it wasn't your fault..."

"But your father, and for all intents and purposes, your stepmother couldn't protect you or anyone else."

"Sounds lame when you put it like that," Kara huffed.

"We can't always help how we feel," Laura countered. She wasn't irritated with Kara's misplaced blame; there was a lot the young woman had gone through.

"I was just...you came out of New Caprica and you at least had your man and life together."

"I had a lot of broken dreams as a result of that planet," Laura's voice was sad, and a single tear trailed down her cheek at the sudden wave of emotion. She sighed and pushed those feelings away for now. New Caprica, when everything seemed possible until it was all cruelly snatched away.

"We all had broken dreams. That planet was so messed up. I was frakkin' held in that dollhouse," Kara's voice was angry. Suddenly, she was tempted to hurl the bottle of wine as far as possible.

"I was tortured," Laura admitted in a whisper.

"What?" Once again, Kara felt like a popped balloon.

"Not many people knew," Laura shrugged it off. "What else Kara?"

Kara bit her lip and looked over at the older woman. Part of her began to realize there was a lot she didn't know about the older woman, and that thought sobered her for a moment. There were secrets of her own that made her the way she was, and yet she sometimes seemed to forget that other people had pasts - the traditional mistake of a hotheaded youth.

Laura shifted in her seat, pressing her limbs closer together. The night air was starting to feel cold, and her head was starting to spin. She knew there were plenty of things Kara wanted to say, and waited.

"You didn't order a mission back to Caprica sooner," Kara finally accused. Laura nodded. She'd expected this to come up.

"I wanted to, Kara. But I had to think about the entire fleet. Do you realize how hard it was to have the fate of humanity resting on my shoulders? One wrong move and poof! There goes an entire race. I didn't want to risk pilots or ships on what sounded like a suicide mission."

"We'd taken risks before, but you wouldn't take a risk on me. You never could," she angrily flicked the soot off the end of her cigar. Kara glared up at the sky and refused to look over at Laura. Her lips were pursed and despite what she was smoking, her body tested. Laura Roslin; one of the few people who wouldn't bet on Kara Thrace, and that pissed her right off.

"It was never, never about you, Kara. It was always about trying to preserve humanity and hoping to the Gods I wouldn't make a mistake. Remember, if you made a mistake you had people to fall back on. You had your fellow pilots. You had Lee and Bill. What if I made a mistake? There was no backup for humanity. We were it, and I felt that every day. My mistakes could end humanity," Laura tried to make the girl understand.

"You took risks," Kara snapped.

"Only when there were very few viable alternatives," Laura replied. They each took a long swing of the bottle. Carefully, Laura explained some of her choices. She didn't need Kara to agree with her but wanted to at least offer her perspective. Kara pushed back and argued but seemed to at last understood why President Roslin had made some of the choices she had. Laura sighed; there were too many impossible choices, starting with that first jump. Cami.

Earth was a topic neither felt ready to talk about, and an unspoken agreement not to mention the nuclear wasteland seemed to be made between them. Earth 1.0 had been a frakked up part of their journey and neither of them had the desire to rip that old wound open.

They stayed quiet, letting the booze and smoke ease the sting of certain memories.

"I am sorry I pulled a gun on you. But I was so, so angry at you for not listening to me. For not taking a risk on me," Kara suddenly said. "The Old Man would have listened to me if you weren't there. But he'd only listen to you! It felt like you were just using him too, like how it seemed you used others. It made me angry. I knew he loved you, but I didn't realize you loved him back. You were letting him watch you die." Kara took a long drink out of the bottle after that, barely noticing how light it had become. She felt the blood racing through her veins as the words were released from her throat.

"That's a bit harsh," Laura murmured. "We are private people…"

"I remember when you two started making out in that airlock and none of us knew what to do." Kara suddenly teased her. The alcohol had firmly taken ahold of her making her moods shift more fluidly and rapidly. "How did you make it work? You and him. You still love each other after years. I can't seem to have any long-term relationship without screwing it up."

"We made a choice. And it takes work. Neither of us are the easiest people to get along with. Sometimes we must fight against our own instincts to be fair to each other and our marriage," Laura's said, fighting her own instinct to tell Kara to mind her own business. But that would accomplish little. So, she answered the question, and then took a long drag.

"Wish I could do that, but I'm nearly impossible to get along with," Kara said with how own dark sense of self awareness. However, she said it like it was a badge of honor. If people couldn't see past her attitude that was their problem, and that was always how Kara had felt. "And, anyone who claimed to love me had a nasty habit of turning up dead or miserable."

"I think, at heart, you know that's not entirely true. You've gotten in the habit of thinking about yourself in a certain way, but you need to decide if that's really who you want to be. This is a second chance. You gotta decide what you really want."

"You might be right," Kara allowed. They were both feeling languid now in their movements. The wine and smokes had done their work, and the women had been able to talk instead of killing each other. Neither was aware of the time that was passing, but they let longs moments of silence pass. It was comfortable enough ironically. The decision to be honest had left them surprisingly at ease.

"My turn?" Laura asked when Kara hadn't been forthcoming even after plenty of time had passed. There were still things Kara felt like she needed to say, but some of the most important pieces were out in the open now. They'd reached tentative understandings. Kara shrugged and nodded.

"Are you ever going to pull a gun on me again?" Laura asked, and Kara gave another one of her strange sounds that was something like a snort or a laugh.

"Probably not. Won't hand you one either since I taught you how to shoot," she joked.

"Will you try and talk your problems out with me this time around? Or come to me if things are bothering you?" Laura asked. Kara might not always be her favorite person and might drive her crazy at times, but that was true about a lot of people. However, they needed to do better this time.

"Yes mom!" Laura rolled her eyes.

"You are high if you're calling me that."

"I wish I could have had a mom like you. That's the frakkin' worst. I get the Old Man as a father, but…" Kara finally realized what she was saying and shut her mouth. Wine was making her too honest, and the smokes were making her too open. Laura heard it though, and she was surprised. There was certainly an anthill of complicated feelings behind the comment, and they were now too far gone to really delve any further into it. Laura kept her response simple.

"Bill's children are my children too now. I've loved Lee and Zak like a mother."

"Are we gonna do each other's hair, have tea, and bake cupcakes together?"

"Sarcasm. Funny. The witty Kara Thrace," Laura proclaimed. She smiled and took a drink. "We might be slightly dysfunctional at times, but that's family. Saul Tigh is still my husband's best friend and brother. There's Jack Cottle playing the part of cranky old uncle to my son. Lee's my stepson. It is what it is." Laura offered and then took a last pass at her cigar. She offered the last bit of wine to Kara who downed it.

Both knew things weren't suddenly fixed between them. Too much had happened. There was the promise that things could be better though. The idea that they could move on lingered in the air. There was still an anthill of emotions and memories between them, but both were aware of it. However, the edges of resentment had been dulled between them even if nothing could ever be fully resolved. The past would always be there to rear its beautiful and ugly head, and that was true for all of those who remembered. All that had happened before would always be there for them.

….


	26. Shiny New Pips

In his palm rested two shiny Admiral's pips. They gleamed in the light from their newness, but Adama - now Admiral Adama - scowled at them. Letters of congratulations littered the dining room table from the rest of the Admiralty; it was the custom. Traditionally, all Flag Officers sent their welcome and well wishes to the newest members of their elite ranks. The notes he'd received talked of respect and admiration. The words wove together and formed the image of a dutiful and honorable man. Adama knew he was well regarded and respected throughout the Fleet, as he had been in the other timeline as well. However, the admiralty of the other timeline had passed him over several times for promotion.

He remembered the day Laura handed him his admiral's stars. It was one of the most bittersweet memories he possessed. At the time, he'd been overwhelmed by her gesture of trust. All through the night, he'd fiddled with the rank bars back in his cabin and choked back tears. He had known she'd also been saying goodbye and giving him one final gift. His mind could picture her perfectly on that day, even though over a decade had passed; she'd been so weak, needing help to even stand as she faded from life. In those few days Bill had mourned his president and friend. Part of his heart had also felt bereft at losing something else, something that he hadn't yet been able to put a name to. He remembered their first, perfect, brief, and tender kiss. She'd smiled; the most sincere and sweet smile he'd ever seen.

A soft touch moved across his hand. He watched as Laura's fingers carefully pried his clenched fist open, coaxing each finger to uncurl with only her loving touch. He hadn't even heard her come into the room. She remained silent but let her eyes observe the stubborn man as she opened his hand. Wordlessly, she took each pin and fixed them to his collar. His body was rigid, neither helping nor hindering her movements.

"I've always said you're the best man I've ever known," she murmured finally breaking the silence while adjusting the pips. "I knew that back when I handed you these on Colonial One. Years later and that hasn't changed. The only difference is that I get to be a proud wife instead of the Dying Leader when you make admiral," she reminded him gently and smiled.

"That's a good change," he said, the gravely cadence of his voice was quieter than usual. "We've made some good changes," he said as if trying to also assure himself of that. Laura nodded in agreement and rested her palms on his chest while looking into his stormy blue eyes.

"You don't have to go," Laura whispered, knowing the mission weighed heavily on him.

"I do. We need to know what's out there. You know that; you've always said you're a pragmatist," he argued. This was the unexpected truth of who they were; Bill was the soldier, but it was Laura who usually needed to be held back from going one step too far. Was violating a treaty and risking war, but gaining invaluable intelligence the right step or a step to far?

"You're right," she said, feeling the heartbeat under her palms.

"They struck first," he pointed out, resting his hands on her hips.

"Cavil did. And I don't want to be the excuse anyone uses to break the peace further," Laura said sharply.

"Either way, this is a military decision," he quipped, evoking memories of arguments long past. Laura raised an eyebrow at him and chuckled.

"Alright, it's military," Laura allowed, changing subjects slightly. "Remember your speech at the decommissioning ceremony?" she asked. "You said it's not enough to survive, but we must be worthy of survival."

"I'm surprise you remember it."

"I never forgot it," she admitted and reached up to lay her hand on his cheek, tracing his rough skin with her thumb tenderly. She took a deep breath. "Whatever happens, come back to me. Body, heart, and soul. Come back," she pleaded, looking into his eyes.

...

On the Valkyrie, Bill woke up five minutes before the alarm went off and already wanted the day to be over. By night watch the stealth mission would be complete. He could stop weighing the pros and cons of this path in his mind and finally stop torturing his mind with the 'what if' game. Once it was done it was done. He didn't navel gaze.

It took a moment to wake up; age was catching up to him again and he felt each of his fifty-four years as he stretched. He also hadn't slept or eaten well since meeting with Admiral Corman. He choked down what food he could, until his mind flashed to Bulldog, Laura's abduction, stealth ships, and the nuclear holocaust. Nights of little sleep and too much thought left a perpetual gritty feeling in his eyes.

He'd agreed to the mission though, and Adama would carry out his orders. He was a soldier; a good soldier. Besides, he hadn't gone soft; he could still make the hard choices, roll the hard six, and pull success out of a failure.

After he showered and dressed in his uniform, he sat at the table in his cabin. The usual warm glow of his lamps lit the space, and distantly he realized he needed to straighten up his cabin soon. Too many books were pulled out and in piles around the room. The chaos didn't bother him. He didn't notice it just as he didn't notice the heat or the taste of the coffee a private had delivered to him as he drank the bitter liquid.

He did notice the fire in Saul Tigh's eyes when he dropped off the morning reports. The man was itching for action and ready to do something, to really do something. Bill nodded curtly and dismissed him after taking the reports. There it was in writing; the stealth mission was a go. The deck chief reported all stealth ships ready. Colonel Tigh reported all pilots were itching to saddle-up. Engineering reported the Valkyrie was at top shape. He slowly rose to his feet, pulling himself up to his full height. His heart pounded in his chest.

He strode out of his cabin with purpose. He held his chin high as he marched to CIC. His crew nodded and saluted their respect. Many greeted Adama with an extra emphasis on his new rank and a smile in congratulations. He nodded back but didn't smile. His stoic persona was tightly wrapped around him that day on his Battlestar. At home he could be Bill, but here he was the Admiral.

He was the Admiral, and he didn't do doubt.

"Admiral on deck," the Officer of the Watch called out when he entered CIC. Men and women snapped to attention, and he bid them to be as they were. He came up to the tactical table where Colonel Tigh waited. The two brothers regarded each other beneath DRADIS screens, its green light shining on both of their faces. CIC's lights were dim, to help crewmen see their screens, but the anticipation could be read on everyone's features. As Saul and Bill looked to each other, they could tell each felt the weight of the future resting on their shoulders.

"Are you with me Saul?"

"Always have been Bill. Always will be," Tigh replied without hesitation. "Gotta have some constants in life," he shrugged. That was all that needed to be said between the two men. It seemed in any life they would have each other's back and cover each other's asses.

Bill gave him a slight grin and a sharp nod in reply.

"Sitrep?"

"Thirty minutes until we reach the Armistice line," the XO relayed. "All hands report ready." The fire was back in Saul's eyes as he looked up at DRADIS. "Ready to get some answers, sir."

"So say we all," Adama muttered.

"We won't be caught with our pants down again," Saul reminded him, and Bill knew that was the most important part of their mission. Protecting the Colonies was their job. But in order to do that effectively, they needed information.

"Continue DRADIS scans as we approach the line. Set condition two throughout the ship," Adama ordered in a sure, deep, but quiet voice. Only Tigh needed to hear him to carry out the order.

"Yes, sir!" Tigh pulled the handset off the console and spoke into it with his gruff XO's voice. "Action stations, action stations. Set condition two. Repeat, set condition two!" His voice boomed over speakers and crew snapped into action. They didn't run, that was reserved for condition one. Pilots suited up, prepared to jump into their cockpits. Gun battery crews reported to their posts. Knuckledraggers ran pre-flight checklists on all ships. Adama's crew was professional. They were ready.

The Battlestar Valkyrie flew closer and closer to the line.

Everyone held their collective breath. Most of the crew had no idea where they were. Only the hand-picked officers of CIC knew they were playing with fire right beside the Armistice line. The rest didn't need to know; they only knew there was something big happening.

"Pilots are reporting to stealth ships," an officer reported. A few moments ticked by, but it felt like time was slowing down to Adama. There was a tightened feeling in his chest, and he frowned.

"All stations report ready," Tigh reported with a grin and a nod. Bill looked into his friend's eye and saw something that shook him. This was a man who needed a target, but it didn't look like he cared what the target was. It was bloodlust. People think rage and bloodlust look like a frenzied display, but they forget it could also be cold and calculated. Both were equally lethal. Both resulted in an explosions of purpose, splendor, and glory. But that explosion of bloodlust could get innocent people hurt. The bloodlust for the Cylons in Saul Tigh's eyes (and the irony that Saul was a Cylon wasn't lost on either man), was like a cold bucket of ice being thrown on Adama.

Bill Adama was a soldier. He hadn't gone soft, but he was an honorable man. Those truths played through Adama's mind as he opened his mouth to give his next order.

"Abort the mission."

"Come again?" Saul asked, wondering if he'd heard his commanding officer correctly.

"Abort the mission," Bill articulated again, annunciating each word. He narrowed his eyes, daring anyone to argue.

"We know the Cylons are out there! We need this strategic information!" Saul argued, in a roaring whisper.

" We can't be the aggressors," Bill countered. Humanity needs to be worthy of survival, he thought.

"We aren't the aggressors. They already struck, remember? They took your wife!" Tigh snapped in a low voice so only Adama could hear. Bill's eyes narrowed at his friend's mention of Laura. His thoughts moved to her. It was Laura, he realized, who'd known he might not be able to complete the mission. She hadn't told him whether or not to go, and she hadn't passed judgement when he left.

"That's enough Saul," Brill growled, fury coiling in the man at his implication that he was unaffected by the kidnapping. It weighed on Bill heavily, as did the possible repercussions of crossing the Armistice line. "Give my order," he commanded in a growl.

Tigh glared at Adama, and the men faced off over the tactical table. His nostril's flared and his eyes were cold and hard. The man had spoken true though; he stood with Adama no matter what. Saul yanked the phone off the console and snarled into it.

"Stand down. Mission in a no-go. Mission," Tigh took a deep breath, still glaring at Adama, "Mission is a no-go. Return to Condition Three."

"Take us away from the line," Adama ordered, and the Valkyrie set a course to return deeper into Colonial space.

Adama took a deep breath, smelling the oil and metal of the Battlestar. He felt lost in the woods. His head had told him to go on the mission, and pragmatically it made sense. The payoff could have been great, but in his gut, it felt wrong. The Colonies had made a treaty, and it wasn't right to violate it. Part of being a soldier was following orders, but they needed to know when to trust their instinct. Adama had started to question his own military sense but realized he hadn't lost his edge.

He took another deep breath. The admiralty needed to be informed of the aborted mission. Bill Adama wondered what this meant for the future.

...

Liam had reached double digits and was Laura's pride and joy. This was his last year in elementary school; he was growing up and starting to leave boyhood behind. Zak and Lee were both adults now, and only Liam lived at home; although, Zak, Lee, and Kara, their adult children, were known to drop by for dinner and a decent place to sleep.

It was quieter with Bill's boys grown and flown but never unbearably so. Once Laura's life had truly been quiet, and she never wanted that again. She had lived alone. There were few friends in her life and no real partner. She had been a quiet and unassuming person. She'd existed, but on the day the world ended she'd been forced to come alive.

Now her life was filled with energy. There were her charismatic children, who were balls of mischief, mayhem, and delight. She had a devoted husband, and their marriage filled both of their lives with sparks of love and passion. At work she was no longer the demure wallflower of years long past, she was a force of her own. She was alive.

She emerged from her office and smiled while watching her son work at the table on his homework. She'd needed a break from the stack of work still waiting to be done. The committee working on the Cylon War museum had officially revised their proposal and were requesting to decommission a Battlestar to house the project. She'd read their proposal several times until her insides tingled and her ears buzzed. Sometimes the future seemed so inevitable to Laura, but her son was proof that things were different.

"Mom?" His voice jarred her out of her thoughts.

"Yes?" She came to stand beside him as he looked pleadingly up at her. She rested her hand on his shoulder; he was starting to get taller, almost to her shoulder now.

"I have to do a chapter report, but the one my teacher assigned me is weird. It gives me the creeps. I don't like it," he said and frowned at the offending book in front of him. Liam, thank the Gods, liked school well enough. Reading assignments were usually a breeze to him since his parents read to him so much as a child. His unusual reticence gave Laura pause.

"Oh? Let's see," she suggested pulling Liam's book, an anthology of Colonial writings, closer to her and flipping it open. "Which chapter?" she asked.

"Twelve," he muttered irritably. Laura flipped through the pages until she suddenly dropped the book as if it had scalded her hand. Her whole body shook violently and completely without her control. Her gaze darted around the room, refusing to look at the book lying open on chapter twelve. Liam stared up at his mother in wide-eyed shock. She pressed one hand to her mouth, stifling whatever sounds were threatening to erupt from her.

"Mommy are you OK?" His sweet voice asked as he watched his mother recoil from the book.

"Uhmm. It's..." she struggled. No words would come to Laura. She stared at the title of the chapter; the Pythian Prophesy.

"Mom?"

"Sorry honey. It's nothing," she murmured trying to will herself to reach out and touch the book.

"Have you read it?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"A long, long time ago," she whispered as her eyes finally settled on the book.

"Do you remember what it said?" Laura thought for a moment. She remembered the times she'd poured over the pages of the sacred scrolls. There were too many memories of her reading their words about a dying leader and a promised land. She remembered burning the book. She also remembered telling Elosha in her dream that she never wanted to read the Pythian Prophesy ever again. This time her fate was her own, she'd sworn.

"Some of it, yes," she finally admitted.

"I don't know what to write about for the report. There's so much. There's the flood. Demons and a battle. The death and rebirth of humanity."

"The dying leader..." Laura murmured, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

"I don't remember reading that. It talks about two leaders who help find the promised land though."

"Two leaders?"

"Yea..."

"I don't remember that," Laura frowned. She slowly reached for the open book. There was nothing written about two leaders in the Pythian Prophesy she'd owned. Nothing. Could the Pythian Prophesy be different now? She wondered as her stomach back-flipped.

"It was hard to read and follow," Liam explained. "It's confusing and scary. I don't like thinking about the world ending."

Laura's hand hovered over the open book. Suddenly, she pulled back, holding her arm close to her body. The weight of the future pressed down on her, making her limbs feel heavy. She wasn't going to be the dying leader again. She was done with prophesy, and it didn't matter that the sacred scrolls had possibly changed. Right?

"I'm sorry, Liam. I can't help...not this time," she stammered. "Just try your best and talk to your teacher if you need to." She stood up and kissed his forehead before moving to start dinner, busying her hands as she pushed her thoughts to the side.

...

That night she looked at the phone every so often. She longed to hear Bill's deep gravely tones and thoughtful comments. She wanted to hear him tell her that he loved her that everything was going to be OK. The appearance of the Pythian Prophesy at her table from Liam had shaken her, and she wanted her husband. Only he could understand what she was going through.

He had promised to call when the mission was complete. Laura knew the operation was scheduled to have finished already. She wasn't new to this; to waiting. Bill Adama had run enough black ops missions over the years they'd been married, and she knew there were numerous and varied reasons why his calls could be delayed. However, it had been well over a week now since he was due to have contacted her. She was worried.

She pushed her hair back and kept her head upright by holding her chin in her hand. Focusing on the current crisis facing her as Secretary of Education, she settled down to fix it. She couldn't spend all her time waiting for him to call; he would when he could, and she knew that. It didn't mean she stopped glancing at the phone on her desk every so often hoping that it would ring.

...

The next morning, she woke up tired and bleary eyed. She'd spent another night having trouble sleeping because her mind whispered lines of the Pythian Prophesy to her. Every worst possible scenario danced in her mind as the night wore on. When no call had come, Laura had pulled on Bill's old Picon Panther's t-shirt to sleep in, smelling his lingering scent in it. It had helped a bit. In the morning a pair of leggings were added, and she made her way downstairs to make some very necessary coffee. She gasped when she glanced into the living room. Bill was sitting on the couch, staring out the window lost in thought.

"Bill!" Laura exclaimed. She dropped the coffee bag and made her way to him.

Bill looked up and saw Laura weaving her way around the furniture. Her eyes were wide any joyful. He pulled himself to his feet just in time to haul Laura into his arms the second she got close enough. He clutched her close, weaving one hand into her thick chestnut hair while his other was splayed across her back, bracing her against him. Her own hands were gripping his uniform.

"What's going on Bill? I've been worried!" she asked from their tight embrace. Bill sighed.

"I've been relieved of duty."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I hope at least one person was surprised by some of these plot twists. Thoughts? Theories? Reviews (I love those).


	27. Embrace

Leoben stood as if holding a private vigil beside the Hybrid. She was lying in her basin deep in the heart of a Cylon ship. He only spared a brief glance for the intruder who interrupted what had been a private audience between himself and the Hybrid. He suppressed a groan when he saw that it was Cavil. The Hybrid on the other hand didn't notice their newcomer; she was too trapped in her own world of Cylon Baseships, stars, streams, and a million realities. Her murmurings echoed around the room, reverberating off the metal walls in soft waves. Leoben's head tilted to the side, and a small frown formed on his face while he listened completely enthralled to the jumble or words that poured from her mouth. A dark shadow fell over her as Cavil moved to the other side of the basin and stared down at the Hybrid sneering. He didn't speak, instead he listened like Leoben.

"... a field variance in the inertial stabilizers, compensating. The cycle of time loops around again. Birds of darkness fly into a field not their own and fall, turning into balls of fire. Raider production down 5%..." the Hybrid spoke in her serene monotone voice which never failed to make those who heard her words shiver. She kept speaking, barely needing to take a breath. "...The dying leader gives way to the promised leaders, and she will guide them on their final journey. Adjust power flow to data processing..." she reported as her eyes stared unblinking into the space around her like she was staring into a void where there was nothing to focus on. Or, maybe she saw beyond the walls that trapped her.

The hairs on the back of Leoben's neck prickled. He stared into the Hybrid's ice blue eyes, but she didn't notice him. She never did. Her words made little sense to either Cylon, but Leoben listened anyway. His gut told him what she said was important, and he'd spent hours in the Hybrid's chamber, hanging on to her every utterance. His heart longed for truth like a bird longed to fly, and he knew there were truths she spoke which were hidden under the layers of computer processing and gibberish.

"...I listen to the echoes of the ageless starry void. The echoes. The echoes..." she gasped suddenly. "...The Orb of Time lost to the Lords has been found by those lost amongst the heavens..." she uttered. "...temperature fluctuations in starboard decks, adjusting..."

Leoben paced around the room, circling the basin. He'd stood still for so long that he needed to move, and his footsteps clicked along the grey metal of the floor.

"You think orbiting her will cause her to make more sense?" Cavil taunted Leoben. His trademark sarcasm dripped from every word that passed his lips. He folded his arms and raised a judging eyebrow at the second Cylon model and the Hybrid.

"She sees things we can only imagine, her dreams are touched by God," Leoben argued with wonder and awe in his voice.

"And I hear the whisper of the stream as it flows," the Hybrid added, as if she had heard what the Cylons around her were saying. Both men's attention snapped to the pale woman with wires and tubes embracing her in the liquid of the basin. It was almost unheard of for a Hybrid to interact with their surroundings or the Cylons present. They waited to see if she would respond anymore to them.

"Unlived lives with lives to live... Thus it came to pass, the dying leader learned the truth of the Opera House... Back in the stream that feeds the ocean that feeds the stream...twelve will know, twelve will know." She fell silent, her mouth hanging open slightly as if there was more she had to say, but even she could not put what she saw in her mind into words.

"Do you feel enlightened yet Leoben?" Cavil asked, smirking at his brother. Leoben glared at the One model and folded his arms. Cavil wore no color, just plain black clothes. He held himself tall; his spine straight, and his chin held high. Superiority oozed from the old looking Cylon. For a few moments silence seemed to rip through the chamber, a void where there should have been a soft gentle voice.

"Win by playing in the face of defeat, end of line...raiders returning to hangar bay..." the Hybrid's voice returned to her, breaking the silence. Cavil continued to smirk at the other Cylon model. He found Leoben laughable most times, with his incessant devotion to the One True God, and his endless vigils at the Hybrid's side.

Biting back his snide remarks, knowing that whatever he said would just be fuel for Cavil's witty retorts, Leoben left. He'd been irritated enough for the time being.

One knew how to get under his brother's skin. In fact, it was laughably easy. Cavil chuckled and watched Leoben stalk off, leaving him and the Hybrid alone. He knelt down by the basin once he was sure his brother was truly gone.

"Tell me about the orb," Cavil ordered. He remembered what his brother, the Cavil who claimed to know the future, had said before being boxed. He'd spoken of an orb. The Hybrid suddenly stopped muttering about the ship and stayed silent for a moment before answering.

"All this has happened before. You know what you need to do, as you have done before..." her gaze snapped to him and even Cavil jumped back in shock. His eyes narrowed, and they stared at one another. "A glimpse into a life already lived, but not yet lived," she uttered while staring at Cavil. Then the moment passed, and her gaze returned to the nothingness around her. She began babbling once more as if nothing had happened.

Cavil felt his heart thundering in his chest; he knew what he needed to do.

The Cylon moved through the Baseship with a determined stride. Unlike his brothers and sisters, he didn't project to fill his surroundings with fake images and delusions. He was comfortable being encased in dull grey walls and red pulsing lights.

A few turns later and he stepped into the room he needed. It was deserted. Good. With a determined stride, he moved to one of the control panels that accessed a particular mainframe and shoved his hand in the interface liquid. Files flashed in his mind, and he searched through them until he touched the boxed memories of his counterpart.

Walls, firewalls like they were made of concrete laced with barbed wire, stood around the memories. He growled in irritation. Flexing his fingers in the liquid, he forced his way through, grasping at what information he could. Bits of knowledge slipped through the gaps he created, nowhere near enough to fill in the blanks he had, but enough to give him something. As he worked his unending irritation with the Final Five caused his Cylon blood to boil; they believed in quaint ideas like privacy and individuality. They'd created these firewalls as a measure to protect the distinct memories of each Cylon strand.

The walls were strong and unbreakable, but they weren't perfect. He yanked information through the small gaps and saw pieces of a puzzle come together. There was a warship called Galactica, along with her sister ship called the Pegasus. There was a Colonial Heavy-liner, and a red headed woman. Ragnar station. A child. He saw his brother accessing the Colonial Defense Mainframe and shutting it down. He saw the memories of his brother walking through a nuclear wasteland. A few more memories filtered out to him, until he could drag no more through the walls.

Cavil grinned. He might not have access to the majority of the memories boxed away with the Future One model's consciousness, but he'd accessed enough. Now he knew what to do. He had Cylons to put in position, and the Final Five to maneuver in such a way so that they could survive only to watch humanity crumble.

…

Bill's arms wrapped around Laura as he held her tight against him. She was his lifeline. The unspoken promise that always existed between them was clear in that moment; I am here, you don't have to worry if you fall apart; I'll hold the pieces.

"I've been relieved of duty," Bill murmured again, dropping his head onto Laura's shoulder. There was a hollowness he felt in his chest, and his body felt heavy. Bill was tired, very tired.

For a moment, Laura stayed quiet and held her husband, knowing that his world had been yanked out from underneath his feet, leaving him spinning and stumbling. She knew her Admiral to be fearless, proud, stoic, and unyielding. But, in spite of all his strength and power, he remained human. He wasn't invincible or invulnerable. He was the mortal Zeus; and, she was his Hera.

"What happened?" she finally asked. Her mind was on overdrive, playing through scenarios as she wondered what lead to the Fleet relieving him of duty. Her wide eyes darted around his face, taking him in while she ran her hands over him. His body felt whole and uninjured, but his eyes were troubled, and his face was tense. She bit her lip to keep her barrage of questions at bay.

"I aborted the mission," he confessed in a low rumble. She kept calm and nodded slowly.

"Ok... so you just...what?" she pushed gently. Experience taught her that demanding answers and trying to drag them out of Bill often resulted in an argument between them instead of a talk. A fight was the last thing either of them needed, so she swallowed her impatience. He looked almost defeated with his slumped shoulders and hair sticking out in different directions from how often he'd run his hands through it.

Words wouldn't come to the tired and drained Admiral. In his mind the events on board the Valkyrie played out over and over, and he relived the moment he aborted the mission. If he had the energy, he'd be angry with himself for the uncharacteristic navel gazing his mind was dragging him through. He tried to push the words out to explain, but he remained silent. Finally, Bill sank back down on the couch, pulling Laura down with him. She opened her mouth, ready to plead for him to answer her questions, but another voice joined them and broke the silence first, causing them both to jump.

"Dad! You're home!" Liam exclaimed. Their son came bounding into the living room and hugged his father. However, sooner than usual Liam was pulling back and folding his arms. He gave his father a stern look, and it seemed like the ten-year-old was trying to act cross by copying his mother's mannerisms.

"Where have you been? Mom's been worried!" He glared at his father.

"Liam!" Laura's voice held a note of warning in it for her son. She felt a guilty blush spread over her skin at the fact that she hadn't hidden her worry well enough.

"What? You've been waiting for Dad to call," he stated matter-of-factly to his mother. The fifth grader pinned his father to the couch with his intense green eyes. "You had mom upset," Liam scowled, clearly wanting to protect his mother even though he was quite small and quite young. Before Laura could offer any explanation, Bill spoke first.

"I know, buddy, I didn't mean to. I'll make it up to her," Bill promised, resting a hand on Laura's knee.

"Liam, you shouldn't talk to your father like that. He was doing his job," Laura cautioned. She felt Bill tense slightly against her when she mentioned his job.

"How come you didn't even call?" Liam asked, tilting his head to the side. The accusation in his young son's eyes gutted Bill. The boy clearly loved his mother fiercely, just as his brothers did, and he didn't bother hiding his displeasure that something had upset her.

"I would have called if I could. You know that, Liam," Bill told him. "There was a communication blackout. No one could call anyone," he explained, running another hand through his hair. He felt one of Laura's hands came to rest on his back while the other gripped his forearm. He looked at Liam who accepted his father's explanation. "Son, can I finish talking to Mom?" he asked.

"You need to get ready for school anyways, Liam," Laura said.

"But, mom..."

"William Joseph..." She didn't need to say more than her son's full name, before he slunk away.

"I'm sorry Laura," Bill murmured, watching Liam go upstairs. Laura shook her head.

"Liam and I understand. He's just feeling precocious this morning," Laura soothed. "But usually you don't come home relieved of duty, and I'd like to know what happened," she pressed. He sighed, readying himself to explain everything.

"We got to the Armistice line. The pilots were ready to go. Stealth ships were a go. Everything was ready," he said and took a deep breath. "And I ordered them to stand down."

"Just like that?"

"Saul was ready to fight me on it. He was so… filled with bloodlust. He wanted a fight. I knew in my gut what we were doing was wrong." He pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture he only used when he was troubled. "Then, I remembered what you said years ago on Colonial One. You wondered if the admiralty wanted to provoke a war, and then I remembered talking about humanity being worthy of survival. Violating a treaty and possibly looking for a fight?" he explained and found himself relieved that there was someone he could talk to about all of this. Saul hadn't wanted to talk or listen after the mission was aborted.

"It was a line you wouldn't cross," Laura stated.

"And now I'm relieved of duty," he grumbled.

"Bill, don't second guess yourself now. You did what you thought was right," Laura assured him. He was an honorable man, and it was one of the traits that had first drawn her to him.

"You're the one who says the right thing isn't always the smart thing," he accused, and she nodded. It was a delicate dance the two of them had played several times; weighing the pragmatic options against the moral options and hoping that luck favored whatever they ultimately chose to do.

"You've always said you don't navel-gaze or catalog your mistakes. You make choices and stand by them," she countered.

"Then I started reliving my life," he pointed out, and she chuckled at the absurdity of their situation.

"What's done is done," she said, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. "So, relieved of duty? What does that mean? Where do we go from here?"

"After I aborted the mission, I contacted Admiral Corman and told him I wouldn't violate the treaty. He ordered us to hold our position until someone came and relieved me. A raptor took me back to Picon where I got my ass chewed out. Corman told me I was relieved of duty and to go home until someone figures out what to do with me," he explained.

"What can they do?" Laura asked. She might have been married to him for years now, but she still didn't know a lot of military procedures and protocols. Besides, this was an entirely new situation; Bill had never been relieved of duty before.

"Court-martial and a possible dishonorable discharge or reassignment. That's usually what happens in cases like this," Bill told her. He slouched back into the couch further and frowned. It felt like his world had been turned upside down.

"Court-martial? Dishonorable discharge?" Laura blurted out. She did know enough about military protocol to realize how serious such possibilities were.

"Possibly. Corman made it clear he wanted me out of the service," Bill sighed. "I've been in his position myself, Laura, remember? When Tyrol and the others went on strike? It's insubordination. I threatened to shoot Cally over not following orders, and the truth is I would have. It's dangerous when military personnel refuse to obey. What happens when they do that in the middle of combat?"

"Even if the order is wrong?" Laura asked thinking of Cain.

"I had the option of turning down the mission in Corman's office. Instead, I disobeyed an order in front of my entire crew. It has consequences," Adama stated, and a large part of him understood why Corman wanted him out of the service. "In fact, I have to report to Secretary Hector tomorrow."

"We'll get through this," Laura promised him. He barely reacted. Instead, his shoulders slumped further. "Bill, when was the last time you slept?" Laura prodded gently, and he shrugged. "You need rest. Go lay down, I'll get Liam to the bus stop and then join you," she directed standing up, and extending a hand to help him.

"Don't you have to work today?" he asked as his hand closed around hers.

"I'll call out," she told him with a shrug and pulled him to his feet.

"I'm not much company right now," he grumbled. Laura gave him a reassuring smile.

"Even on your worst days your company is infinitely better than Adar's and the rest of the crazy politicians who run this government," she said and, for brief moment, a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.

"Better than Adar's huh?"

"Without a doubt," she said giving him a gentle kiss. "Bill, I want to be with you right now. Let me get our son to the bus, and I'll be right back," she soothed. "In the meantime...bed," she ordered, pointing to the stairs.

"Yes ma'am," he quipped, causing her to giggle. She pushed him gently toward the stairs, and he obediently began climbing up. Halfway up, he paused and turned to watch her. She'd moved to the dining room table and was packing up Liam's school bag. Bill's eyes softened as he watched her for a moment. His world might have been knocked of its usual axis, but, as long as she was alive, it hadn't shattered around him again. He turned and finished climbing the stairs.

Before heading to his room, he stopped by Liam's. He knocked on the door and slipped inside. Liam was fighting with the zipper of his sweater when Bill walked in. Noticing his father's presence, Liam looked curiously up at him.

"I'm sorry I couldn't call," Bill said. Liam nodded.

"I know," Liam said. "It's just...mom really wanted you to call last night. I think my homework upset her," he explained, biting his lip. His hands continued fidgeting with his zipper, and Bill moved over to help him with it.

"It's OK to be protective of your mom. I said similar things to my dad about my own mom actually," he pulled the zipper up Liam's sweater and smiled reassuringly at his son. "Can you tell me what she was upset about?"

"The Pythian Prophesy. I had to do a report on it," Liam said, moving to find his shoes.

"What?" Bill frowned, a sudden sick feeling in his stomach.

"Yeah," Liam said, oblivious to his father's discomfort as he moved around his room, looking for his other shoe. "She wouldn't read it."

"I'll make sure she's OK," Bill promised. Liam looked up at him and smiled.

"Dad? I'm glad you're home. I'm sorry I was upset," he said, and his green eyes looked nervously up at his father. Bill pulled him into a hug.

"I'm glad I'm home too. You do need to watch your tone mister," he warned gently as he hugged his son. They both heard Laura calling up to Liam, warning him to hurry up. "Sounds like you better finish getting ready for school, buddy," Bill said ruffling Liam's hair.

...

Bill felt the bed dip slightly as Laura tried to quietly join him without disturbing his rest. However, despite his exhaustion, he had only been able to toss and turn beneath the covers. So, he was still very much awake to feel Laura try and carefully shift closer to him.

"You gonna keep tiptoeing around or get over here?" Bill asked in a gravely, sleepy voice. He heard Laura giggle, and he lifted his arm. She quickly shifted into her spot with her head resting on his chest.

"I thought I told you to rest," she chided.

"I will soon, but I spoke with Liam and he told me something interesting I've been thinking about," Bill said, wrapping his arm around his wife.

"Oh?"

"His homework on the Pythian Prophesy."

"Oh."

"Seems like I'm not the only one having a rough time. Wanna tell me about it?" Bill asked.

"No," Laura said firmly.

"Laura. I want to..." he growled, ready to push for answers.

"The Prophesy is different," she cut him off when it was clear Bill wasn't going to let it drop. Under his hand he felt her body tense. His eyes snapped open and he looked at his wife.

"Different how?" he demanded, he felt his heart beat faster in his chest, and his arm tightened around Laura. He dreaded hearing the title 'dying leader' ever fall from her lips again. She'd had preventative surgery, he reminded himself. She couldn't be the dying leader again.

"I don't know. I didn't read it, and I'm not going to," she stated flatly.

"Why not?"

"Because we decided when we married that this life would be different. We were defining this life by our responsibilities as husband and wife and as parents instead of being controlled by destiny and prophesy or rules and regulations," she said, looking up into his open eyes. "That's all I want," she promised passionately. "I don't want to read whatever it says, because it shouldn't matter to us. It's bad enough I can't control the visions when I dream," she explained. She didn't mean to sound as angry and fierce as she did, but it burst from her. She never wanted to hear the title 'dying leader' ever again. She'd accepted that fate once; her life was her own this time. She had to believe that.

"That's all I want too," he assured her kissing her forehead gently. "You haven't had any more visions, have you?"

"Just the one about Athena being awake. And the girl, but I think she's a dream instead of a vision now," Laura admitted with a sad smile.

"Life is rough right now isn't it?" Bill asked with a cynical chuckle. When he didn't hear anything from Laura, not even a typical giggle, he knew what to ask. "What else is on your mind?" He heard her resigned sigh and felt her shift against him. It took a moment for her to answer.

"I received the final proposal for the Cylon War Museum," she explained in a quiet, controlled voice. "It's official. Galactica will become a museum when she's decommissioned in a few years. It's...disconcerting watching events play out how I remember. I hate wondering if we are heading for the apocalypse again no matter what."

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Cavil is up to no good! The Pythian Prophesy is floating around out there. Galactica will be a museum.
> 
> Who's ready to know what happens to Adama?
> 
> Reviews are loved and encouraged. It keeps me motivated and puts a little spring in my step.


	28. You are a Problem Adama

It wasn't every day an Admiral in the Colonial Fleet woke up facing insubordination charges. Although, the waiting was like a punishment delivered early. The sickening expectation of judgment made Bill Adama's body feel as though he'd stepped over a cliff as soon as he awoke.

A distant memory tugged at his mind.

"Yell at me, I don't wanna get out of bed," Bill grumbled with his head under the pillow. Why would he want to get out of the embrace of his warm bed where Laura's perfume still lingered on the sheets? Staying where his still tired body could find solace was more enticing than reporting to the Secretary of Defense and watching his career go up in flames. He listened to Laura drifting through the room and cracked a small smile when her rich voice slipped through the pillow.

"You're asking the wrong person. I'd rather go back to bed," she murmured. He could have hidden like a hermit under the covers all day, but her troubled voice caused him to stir and emerge.

"How are you doing?" he asked, slipping his head out from under the pillow. He observed her in the dim light of the early morning, and she gave him a soft smile in response.

"I'm fine. Didn't even dream last night. I'm a bit more concerned about you right now," Laura replied gently, tilting her head to watch him. Bill wasn't the type to resist the pull of daytime. "Are you gonna be OK?" Even though her tone was light, she couldn't hide the undercurrents of worry in her voice.

"I don't wanna face them," he grumbled, laying back and letting his pillow mold around his head. Peripherally, he saw Laura bend and reach under a cream lampshade to flip the light on, giving their room a warm glow. He was thankful they both preferred the gentle luminescence of lamps instead of harsher overhead lights. His breath caught in his throat when the light caught the cascade of tumbling red tangles which fell around her shoulders, and he watched as she moved to sit next to him. Whatever happened today, when the sun set this was what he would come home to, and there was comfort in that.

"Well, if you need to be yelled at, I think I can give you some volume," Laura offered, remembering the conversation as well. Bill snorted in disbelief and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Give it your best shot," he challenged, but her feral grin made him question challenging Roslin. Hadn't he learned better by now? He watched her slowly bend over him. Her breath brushed across his ear, and a shiver ran up his spine at not knowing what to expect.

"Get out of that bed," she whispered, carefully forming each word and nipping at his ear playfully. She pulled back slightly, and he found a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"That's your best shot?" he growled, more tempted to pull her back into the disheveled blankets alongside him rather than standing to face the day. At least he was pleasantly distracted by the siren he'd married.

"Get your fat, lazy ass out of that bed, Adama!" she ordered, and her sharp increase in volume so close to his ear caused him to violently jump. In the process, his body collided with Laura's, and she was unceremoniously knocked onto the floor. Laura's giggles filled the air, and he glared at her from over the edge of the bed.

"I remember being distinctly nicer to you when you called," he huffed.

"You said give it your best shot," she shrugged innocently and stood.

"Touché, Roslin," he growled. Admittedly, he was now far more alert, so he stood and stretched, catching his wife's laughter still very much present on her face. His heart was touched at her subtle attempt to lighten his mood. Pulling her to him, he kissed her gently, feeling lighter at seeing her mirth. Her reserves of strength and courage boosted his own in that moment, and he was thankful for the thousandth time that he'd found a real partner to face life with.

"Don't let 'em see you sweat, Bill," she murmured as he rested his forehead against hers, his own advice from years long past echoed back to him. Maybe he would get through this day after all.

…..

Don't let 'em see you sweat. Her warm words of advice stayed with him as did her confident smile. No doubt had clouded her face that morning; she seemed convinced that everything would be alright. It was a comforting mental image to clutch in his mind.

He shuffled through the ostentatious capital building of the Twelve Colonies. The shining marble was blinding, and the lingering scent of too-sweet cologne assaulted his nose. He wasn't oblivious to the stares he got from the men and women striding past him in their power suits. Hadn't they ever seen an officer in a Colonial uniform before? Their lingering eyes and his overwhelmed senses made him feel like an intruder in their polished world. This was Laura's battlefield not his.

He turned the corner sharply and stared unblinking at the door behind which his fate would be handed down. Heat pulsed through his whole body and every muscle tensed, but he didn't break his stride. Don't let 'em see you sweat; frankly, it was good advice. So, Adama stood tall and proud. Head upright and chin level. He gave a firm and loud knock on the door.

The two men already in the office stopped talking the instant Adama entered and instead watched him with narrowed eyes. Even the commendations and awards, all perfectly framed and aligned on the walls, seemed to stare out in judgment, weighing Adama's insubordination against the perfection and order they represented. Dark ebony bookshelves filled with books on military history framed the Secretary of Defense, lending him an aura of power. Adama accepted the prestige the office conveyed on behalf of its inhabitant; after all, Hector represented the proud lineage of the Colonial Fleet within the government. Adama had always worn the uniform with pride, pledging to defend the Colonies against all threats against it. He believed in his oath, which was why each step further in the office felt like torture. These men questioned his loyalty, and that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Or maybe the bitter taste came from seeing the President of the Twelve Colonies positioned in the office as well. By the window, Richard Adar stood with his arms folded in front of the grey, heavy clouds suspended in the skies above Caprica City. He openly seethed at Adama, but the stoic military Admiral didn't flinch.

Internally, Bill raged at the President's presence. Even the idea of explaining himself to Adar disgusted him. The President and Secretary waited. Adama knew what was expected. He came to attention, maybe slower than he might normally, and saluted. Sometimes, military protocol could go frak itself, Adama thought. It definitely could anytime he was forced to salute Adar the Moron. He wasn't saluting Adar, Bill reminded himself. This honor rendered was for the Presidential office, and not for the man himself.

Adar's cold eyes remained trained on him, but he didn't acknowledge Adama's salute. Still, the Admiral refused to let go of his dignity or pride. He continued to hold himself tall and proud in an impeccable salute. Unwavering. No emotion crossed his face, even when neither man saluted back. It was a petty way to showcase their displeasure. Contempt. Disrespect. They finally nodded at him, and the Admiral was ordered to stand at ease.

"You're a problem Adama," Secretary Hector stated. The accusation hung in the air, like the blade of a guillotine, hovering until it was time to strike. "What are we supposed to do with you?" Gone was the charismatic and kind Secretary of Defense Adama had met at Lee's graduation. This was a man who'd been appointed because he could wage a war against Cylons. His words were just one of the many weapons now at his command. He used them effectively.

"I'm prepared to face the consequences of my actions," Adama replied, his fierce blue eyes trained on Hector's. He felt fire running through his veins, reminding him of his own power and strength. The two men tried to stare him down as if to make him shrink back, but Adama remembered that he could be a dangerous man too.

"Are you? Are you really ready to face a court-martial? To be discharged out of the service? That stigma will follow you forever, a stain on an otherwise illustrious career. It would never be blotted out," Hector pushed and then pushed some more. He wanted to see the flash of understanding in Adama's eyes. He needed to see the man realize the shame he should feel at disobeying his orders in front of his crew.

"I understand," was all Adama offered in response. Hector's jaw clenched in disappointment.

"That's it?" Adar finally spoke up, his voice incredulous.

"Yes," Adama kept his answers simple. Don't let them see you sweat. Heavier clouds rolled into the sky outside, making the office appear even darker than it should.

"Why'd you do it?" Adar demanded. He spat the question out. "Why disobey your orders?" He opened his mouth to say more, ready to bury Adama under a barrage of questions and accusations. Then he seemed to think better of that idea and closed his mouth.

"It's done now," Adama growled, irritated at the idea of explaining his command decisions to Adar.

"Indulge me," Adar ordered. Adama felt his jaw clench in protest but forced himself to relax and answer. Adar was still his Commander and Chief.

"We can't violate a treaty we ourselves agreed to." It was the simple truth, and why he'd pulled the plug on the black ops mission.

"How naive can you be?" Adar spat, turning to look back out the window eyeing the ever-darkening clouds.

"So, you're ready for a court-martial, and everything that will entail?" Hector shook his head and chuckled cynically. Adama still didn't flinch. But then the conversation took an unexpected turn, and it felt like an iron weight had been dropped on Adama's stomach at Hector's next words.

"What about Secretary Roslin?" Hector let her name echo around the room. The charged atmosphere became heavier and heavier as seconds ticked by after the mention of Adama's wife. "What about Secretary Roslin?" Hector asked again, and Adama thought of his wife. The conversation's unexpected and sharp turn left the Admiral reeling. What about her?

"You are aware," Hector began, he spoke in a carefully measured tone. The Secretary made sure each letter, each breath, each pause carried a punch. "You are married to a senior member of this government, right? What do you think would happen if we put the spouse of a high-ranking member of the government through a trial for insubordination?" Hector asked. Bill's heart skipped a beat. Laura herself had once warned him that things like trials and tribunals had a way of hurting the people we least expect. On his finger he felt his wedding band, now starting to become worn after a decade of wearing it every day. Don't let them see you sweat; she'd said. Adama felt a cold sweat overtaking him.

"Like it or not, you aren't just another Admiral in the Colonial Fleet. If this gets out, the public will rip you apart, and your marriage gives them an opening to come after her next," Hector promised him. Adama knew this wasn't a threat. This was a reminder of how their world worked, and part of him hated himself for forgetting that. His family's connection to the mob was already enough fodder for the news sometimes. How could he have forgotten how what he did could impact her? And yet, his heart knew he'd done the right thing. He'd trusted his gut.

"They'll come after the whole government. It gives the public and the news an opening, and you are smart enough to know they'll pounce on it," Secretary Hector continued, and saw the impact his words had on Adama. The brief flinch, the tiny widening of the eyes, and the shift in the Admiral's stance; it all told the Secretary of Defense that the man standing before him was taking what he said to heart. Finally. Hector had seen the way the two interacted with the other at their son's graduation. He knew on those observations alone what Adama's greatest strength and greatest weakness was - Laura.

"You see what you've done?" Adar hissed without turning from the window.

"You're worried about covering for the government?" Adama snapped, more harshly than he intended. His anger was real though. Richard Adar knew the attacks were coming. He knew there was a bigger threat to worry about than him. Besides, he didn't want to think about Laura and the truth behind Hector's words. So, he deflected.

"The government, which includes your wife!" Adar yelled, whirling around to face him, and taking a threatening step toward Adama.

"I'm aware," Adama's voice raised slightly, and the gravely timbre in it became more pronounced. Too much emotion was slipping out for his tastes though, and Bill pulled his stoic armor tightly back around him.

"There's an election coming up. All of us are under a microscope. They'd love a scandal, and it would be domino effect. What happens when wolves smell blood?" Hector asked. His eyes flashed. He paused for a moment and delivered another bomb. "And if this administration is replaced, what good is the information you and Secretary Roslin possess?" Hector asked. Bill's eyebrows raised, and Hector nodded. He knew everything.

"You see the problem. Your actions can affect her and the rest of us. Hmph. You're just another fleeter, looking down on us politicians," Adar spat, getting closer to Adama. He made no show of hiding his contempt. He missed the look of irritation Hector shot him. "I think if you weren't going to respect that she's a public figure, you shouldn't have married her," Adar snarled. Adama felt his heart constrict painfully at those words, and Adar pressed on. "We're at the mercy of the public, and they love it when a good scandal breaks out. They love to question our judgment and tear us apart."

"What if that mission had provoked a war?" Adama asked, hating that there was some truth to Adar's words. He watched Hector shift behind his heavy desk, and its carefully ordered piles of papers, clearly owned by a man who liked clear answers.

"It didn't," Secretary Hector cut in, casting a glance at President Adar as if to tell the other man to stand down. Adar got the message, and he backed away from Adama.

"So, it's clear we can't court-martial you; too much negative press too close to an election. Retirement so soon after a promotion? Not elegant either, and you might still be useful," Hector explained. Adama felt his heart hammering in his chest. The truth was, he didn't want to leave the Fleet. The Cylon threat was out there still, and he wanted to help see it through to the end. He waited to see what would happen, preparing the final card he had to play if he needed to.

"You're a problem Adama," Adar's words sliced through the air, aimed to hurt the man he now completely despised.

"You're being reassigned," Hector cut to the chase, before either Adama or Adar had a chance speak. "The Galactica, she's scheduled to be decommissioned. When she's done with the service, you will be too," Secretary Hector pronounced. The sentence was passed. Judgement handed down. All this has happened before, and all this will happen again. Now, Adama would find himself on the Galactica once more.

"Yes sir, " he replied.

"Make no mistake Adama, if you weren't connected to Roslin and the other thing wasn't a factor," Hector began, alluding to Adama's memories. "You'd be out of the Fleet. I don't tolerate people who can't follow orders." Hector snapped, his tone lashing out like a whip.

"What orders? There's no record of any orders," Adama asked, and both men stared at Adama, shocked that he hadn't retreated with his tail between his legs. This was the card that Adama could play that he'd kept close to his chest. The truth blazed out now; what could they do to him in reality? The mission never officially happened, and Bill's defiance didn't change that fact.

Hector crossed his arms and leveled a look at Adama. Before he could speak Adama continued.

"My court-martial, one you pointed out you can't easily cover up, would show the public that this government wanted to violate a treaty and risk war. No wonder you are worried," he challenged them. Neither of the two men knew how to respond, but it was becoming clear Adama was a dangerous man. He continued speaking.

"You implied my wife's name is keeping me safe? She's keeping you safe too. Without her you damn well better believe I would face the music and see what the public really thought of this government risking war with the Cylons," Adama countered, his deep voice carrying an ominous note. He stood tall and watched the two men react in disbelief. They weren't used to someone pushing back. This was a dangerous game, but Bill wouldn't be played, and Laura's name wouldn't be used as a weapon to keep him in line.

"The Cylons are the threat," Adar yelped, remembering what Adama and Roslin had relayed to him. This man knew the danger of the future.

"Doesn't mean we have to help invite them back," he responded. That was the heart of why he had aborted the mission in the end after all. Adama watched Hector flinch at the idea that they could be prompting the Cylons to attack. He leveled a gaze at both of them. "You have no idea what they are capable of. The destruction they can cause. I won't be part of any plan that provokes them."

"Get out of this office," Hector ordered, his patience clearly snapping as he growled each word out. The counterpoint Adama had played for the two men had sparked a potent mix of irritation, anger, and fear to surge through the office. It caused the atmosphere to shift and morph, becoming unsteady. A ticking time bomb. However, Adama didn't need to further prove his point, so he chose to listen to Hector. He'd made his position clear, and the reassignment was... tolerable. The Galactica was a fine ship after all. And, apparently, she was destined to always be Adama's ship.

"Yes sir," Adama replied and the tension was released. He turned to leave.

Adar quickly paced over to the Admiral before he could reach the door. The scorn the man dealt out with every movement he made only served to prove Adar's own ego to Adama.

"I don't know what Laura sees in you, but I know you don't deserve her," Adar muttered in a low voice. Whatever pretense the two men once had at civility between them was gone, and Adar's eyes burned into Adama's. It was clear as Aquarian glass that this man the Colonies had elected utterly and completely believed his bold claim. But, what did it matter? Adama raised an eyebrow but chose not to reply. Instead, he left, carrying himself with the same dignity that he had when he'd arrived. Politics, as exciting as war; he was still standing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I'm so so so so so eager to hear what ya'll thought. The good, the bad, the ugly. I wanna know.


	29. Different Pebble, Same Ripples

He'd walked these halls enough times to know that the capitol building of the Twelve Colonies shouldn't have so many gun wielders prowling through her corridors. Marines stationed at hallway intersections grasped their rifles, and agents with dark suits, earpieces, and sidearms roamed the building. They looked prepared and wary. Bill frowned, eyeing each of them as he made his way through the building to his wife's office, showing his ID pass when prompted.

The security relaxed around the Halls of Education, and the atmosphere brightened. Laughter reached his ears the closer he came to her office. There was often laughter around Laura Roslin back on the Colonies. It wasn't full belly laughs, but it was the gentle roll of chuckles and waves of giggles from camaraderie, friendship, people put at ease, and inside jokes. Bill watched a group of teachers leaving Laura's office all bantering easily among themselves while smiling and nodding their goodbyes to their well-liked leader.

Mirth dancing in her eyes was the first thing Adama noticed when he saw Laura. Her own meeting had obviously gone better than his. Her unworried and calm facade made him wonder if she'd noticed the major increase in security.

Seeing her husband, her gaze softened in concern as he shut the door. The folders she carried were dropped onto her desk. Crossing the room, Laura tugged him away from the door and onto the couch in her office. Her mind had constantly drifted to him and his meeting to imagine what was happening. Now she wanted to know.

"What did they say?"

"Reassignment. Bet you'll never guess which ship," Adama quipped.

"The Pegasus?" Laura guessed sarcastically, adding a bit of humor. Rolling his eyes, Bill gave a dry chuckle.

"Funny," he snorted, glad he hadn't been given command of that beast. "Galactica."

"So, you weren't demoted, court-martialed, or discharged," Laura affirmed.

"They wanted a quiet solution. Something the media wouldn't notice since I'm married to a certain government official. Apparently, the court-martial of an Admiral married to the Secretary of Education might make some headlines, especially, when the orders he disobeyed weren't on the books," Adama said, and told her about their conversation. He fought his rising irritation as he explained what happened, but knew he'd be hitting the gym later. Hard.

"I had a few choice things to say to them," he growled, finishing his tale. Laura tilted her head and imagined him going toe to toe with Hector and Adar.

"They need a dose of humility," Laura sighed. The two of them needed to be taken down a peg or two, and it was satisfying to think of Bill being the one to do it.

"What's going on today in the capitol? There's all kinds of marines and security," he asked, unable to stop thinking of the rifles and agents. The knot of concern had been growing in his stomach.

"Not sure. I didn't notice," she admitted, frowning. "The Cabinet is supposed to meet in Adar's office in a bit, but my aide didn't write down what for. Is there really that much security?" she asked, racking her brain to remember what was going on. It felt like she should remember something, but nothing was coming to her. She sighed, shrugged, and changed the subject before it started to bother her. "So, will you be happy to see Galactica again?" she asked, wondering if it would be too bittersweet.

"It'll be strange standing on her decks again. Although, we won't be reporting to Galactica right away. She's in dry dock," he explained.

"Ahhh. I might have had something to do with that," Laura mentioned. Her lips formed a particularly sassy smirk, and she felt a little thrill go through her at her husband's curious gaze.

"Oh?"

"Well, she is to be a museum. So, as Secretary of Education, I thought it prudent to order a structural survey to make sure she has no potential issues. I told the inspection team to be thorough. Apparently, they discovered quite a few problems. In fact, there were enough concerns raised that now more Battlestars are getting surveyed. Secretary Hector isn't particularly happy with me now. It wrecked his budget," Laura explained with a soft giggle. She eagerly watched as understanding dawned on Bill, and a smile formed on his face. He looked like a kid on Saturnalia morning

"You remembered Galactica's structural problems?!" Adama exclaimed. He felt lighthearted and maybe even a little giddy.

"Surprise. She's being fixed up like new," Laura promised, looking pleased with herself and relaxing into the couch. "Your women have to watch out for each other Bill," she teased.

"I don't know what to say."

"Well, If I'm trying to avoid dying of cancer too early, it seemed right to let Galactica get some care too."

"You're more important to me than the ship, Laura," he growled. "And you'd better be keeping your own upcoming appointments with the doctor." The familiar neurosis he still struggled with at her death tugged at his mind.

"So bossy," she scoffed but softened when she saw the look he gave her and decided to placate him. "I know. I know. I'll go. And I had to do this. If those attacks happen, we need to be ready. Adar and Hector, they seem to want a war. They are acting like this will be a full-frontal assault. They think they can throw some Battlestars at and that will be enough."

"At least the networking issue was solved," Bill muttered, shaking his head and pursing his lips. The report they'd given Adar on the day they'd told him about the attacks had detailed exactly how their defenses were circumvented.

"Bill, there still has to be some things we can do," she said, they'd worked with Kara and Cottle to stockpile supplies. Laura had played her part with Adar. What else could they do? It felt like old times, the two of them planning and hoping. A storm was coming, and she didn't feel ready. She wondered if they'd ever feel confident that they weren't facing another apocalypse, a fate she desperately wanted her sons to be spared.

"The people I have kept up contact with through the Fleet, they know to regroup at Ragnar if the Cylons come," Adama shrugged. "There's not much more we can do ourselves."

"There is nothing worse than regret at missed opportunities," Laura said. She glanced at the clock in her office and jumped to her feet. "I'm going to be late if I don't get going. Walk me?"

"Of course," Bill said and extended his elbow which Laura slipped her arm around.

Together they walked through hallways, and Laura took in the extra security Bill mentioned. She frowned. She'd never seen such a military presence in the Capitol. Suddenly, bile rose in her throat as they neared Adar's office. She froze and took a couple deep breaths. Heat raced through her body while a ringing sound filled her ears.

"I remember," she whispered, and every muscle in her body tensed. In front of them, security blocked their path.

"What's going on?" Bill asked Laura, placing a hand over where his wife gripped his arm. He squeezed it reassuringly but felt alarmed at the icy glint he found in her gaze. Gone was the laughing Laura Roslin of earlier. This was President Roslin, and the sight of her caused Bill's heart to clench and his stomach to knot. He looked toward where she was staring and after a moment understood.

A heavily armed detail escorted a prisoner, the red jumpsuit giving away his status, down the hallway. His dark hair was disheveled, but his eyes defiantly stared down anyone who would meet his gaze. Adama and Roslin watched as their old nemesis, Tom Zarek, was paraded by.

"The last thing he ever told me was that he'd executed you. Do you know why?" Laura asked in a low tone, pacing over to the wall and leaned against it for support. Her legs felt like jelly.

"Laura…"

"To break me," she cut him off. "He knew I loved you and deliberately used it as a weapon. He knew your death would kill me faster than my cancer ever could. He wanted it to be the final thing to send me over the edge; he'd never have to worry about me after that," she spoke but her usual warm voice was now hard like steel. Eyes closed, she leaned her head against the wall. "Kiss me," she suddenly asked, clearly not caring that they were in public. She wanted to feel him.

He observed her down-turned features, and the way she fiddled with the onyx pendant almost always at her throat. Without hesitation he kissed her so well that she forgot every terrible moment that had happened in their lives. Instead, they felt that powerful thing which had always been between them; a love which was not to be questioned or frakked with in any way. The people who'd tried, idiots like Zarek and Adar, only made fools of themselves. When they broke apart Laura's face had relaxed. Bill brought her left hand to his lips and kissed where her wedding band rested on her finger, and she was able to give him a genuine smile. Their connection was as powerful as ever, strengthening them both.

"Secretary Roslin?" Adar called, noticing her in the hallway. His party, with plenty of secret service agents, was following Zarek to where his parole would be offered. He'd paused when he'd noticed Laura.

"Go," Bill encouraged when he heard her sigh. "I'll see you at home soon." Laura nodded and moved to join her boss's party. Bill watched her walk away. She strode with purpose, not breaking a step even when she turned to look over her shoulder and mouth 'I love you' to him. He chuckled and grinned. 'Me too' he replied silently, delighting in the grin that he saw spreading on her face. She turned back to Adar's group and joined it. Whether or not the President was right, whether he deserved Laura Roslin or not, she was as utterly devoted to him as he was to her.

Adar matched his pace with Laura. He wanted to speak with his favorite secretary. His body radiated the tension he felt, even though he tried to cover it with a dose of bravado. This man was no Kara Thrace though, and his swagger looked as forced as it was.

"He's going to accept," Adar assured her. He tried to sound confident and only sounded loud. Laura rolled her eyes. Her throat and stomach felt like she'd swallowed something unpleasant as they made their way through the building. She remembered the defiant and smug look Zarek often wore, and her fists clenched.

"No, he's not."

"I've spent too much time working up every possible argument and counter argument. I've got a speech vetted by over a dozen people to help convince him to accept the pardon."

"Richard, I know it's a strange concept, but there are people who will say no to you. He's not going to accept. He thinks he's right and has nothing to lose. Men like that are dangerous," she hissed, trying to force her body to relax.

But Adar had invested too much time and energy into this offer. He was risking his political neck by extending this olive branch to Zarek. His mind refused to believe that the terrorist could refuse his offer. Why would the man willingly go back to prison?

"Your future isn't already written," Adar snapped. Laura shrugged and tried not to let the situation with Zarek get to her. She pondered Adar's words for a moment and relished the idea that the future held a million possibilities.

"I hope things work," Laura said. The philosophers say the past cannot be changed, and it's only the future which we have any power over. Laura reflected on that position. What happens when you've seen the future and live in the past? There was no rule book for her to follow, and, as a former teacher, she had an appreciation for rules.

She didn't know if the future was written or not. Either way, Tom Zarek did not accept his parole that day.

…..

Over a month later, two women studied a display case. The opening of the contemporary art exhibit at the Delphi Museum was the talk of Caprica City. When Kara had mentioned that she liked the artists who'd be on display, Laura had taken the young viper pilot as her plus one. It was one of the many continual peace offerings still being exchanged between the women. Throngs gathered around the new pieces being presented, but Laura and Kara were drawn to a much older case holding a much older artifact.

"I have to admit, it's impressive how often your powers of persuasion got me into trouble, and I still haven't learned my lesson," Kara muttered and fidgeted with her dress. Her acerbic tone was only slightly placated by the devil-may-care grin on her face.

"You enjoy trouble," Laura countered. The Secretary of Education usually felt alive and peaceful in museums. She enjoyed the merging of past and present museums presented, and how they bore witness to humanity's powers of creation. However, this display she stood in front instantly made her feel uneasy.

"I enjoy fun," Kara countered. "Are all these people usually so pretentious?" Kara asked while eyeing the crowds filled with businessmen, politicians, and socialites. "Because, I once thought you were bad. Now I wanna know how you survived being around these people and can still be nice," Kara said. Her sarcasm was as biting as ever.

"One of my favorite things about you Kara has to be your candidness," Laura replied now unfazed by Kara's sass. She suspected Kara enjoyed trying to get a rise out of her, and it was equally satisfying to deny her that pleasure.

"Not how gullible I am?"

"Second favorite trait."

"Well, if you try and send me back for this thing," Kara gestured toward the Arrow of Apollo they stood in front of, "I'm helping them throw you in the brig."

"I was planning on asking you to retrieve the Hammer of Hephaestus this time," Laura replied in a dry tone, and Kara snorted out a laugh.

"I get it! I'm your personal Hercules! These are the crazy ass trials I have to complete!"

"Being elevated to Demi-God status is the last thing you need," Laura muttered.

"Says the Prophesied ex-leader of all humanity," Kara snipped. They were in danger of letting their playful banter turn serious and scathing. Their tentative relationship was not quite rock-solid yet, and it wasn't hard for them to accidentally insult the other.

"Not this time. Too stressful. The pressure tends to work one into an early grave," Laura joked, but her humor fell flat. Kara's expression was suddenly serious. The banter had gone too far.

"It really was too stressful. Why did the Gods have to choose us? I wouldn't have chosen us. We aren't the greatest choices out there." Kara frowned and folded her arms.

"I don't know," Laura sighed. "I didn't ever have any aspirations for that kind of power or responsibility."

"Me neither."

"It's just an arrow right now," Laura noted and nodded at the display case, "It looks so...mundane almost. The gold is worn. The jewels are dull. It's…. It's just an arrow," she said.

"And we are just people now," Kara muttered. "Right?" Kara saw Laura shift uncomfortably. "You're having visions again." Kara's heart raced at the realization, and she felt like someone had ripped the rug out from underneath her. Her wide eyes watched Laura continue to twitch uncomfortably under her gaze.

"They never really stopped," Laura admitted quietly.

"Are the attacks going to happen?" Kara demanded. She ran a shaky hand through her hair. She frowned and crossed her arms while waiting for Laura to reply.

"Kara…" this was the last thing Laura wanted to discuss. She hated how crazy and out of control her visions made her feel. Every vision, every glimpse, and every foretaste of knowledge felt like pouring salt in an open wound which reminded her of the destiny she'd died to fulfill.

"You've seen the attacks. Haven't you?" Kara was perceptive. It was something which made her one of the best viper pilots in the Fleet. Laura's downcast expression was all the reply Kara needed. "Have you told the Old Man?"

"I was going to once I was sure it was a vision and not a dream or nightmare," Laura sighed. "We told President Adar how to avoid the attacks. It should be impossible for them to happen. But with Bill back on Galactica, and my dreams," she didn't continue. What could she say that Kara hadn't already thought? Besides, did she see visions or nightmares?

"Same ripples, different pebbles," Kara muttered.

"The prophecy is different," Laura relayed. "The Pythian Prophecy. I'm not sure what that means. Liam had a project on it, but I haven't read it. I don't want to. Maybe everything is changing."

"Even if it is changing, I don't want to follow visions or prophesy again. I don't want to play a role the Gods pick out for me," Kara said. It wasn't hard to understand why Laura didn't want to know what Pythia said. She didn't either.

Giving the display case one last dirty look, the two women decided to move away. They wanted to be free to live their own lives, so they ignored the Arrow of Apollo for the rest of the night.

…...

The last time he'd seen her, when he flew the last viper out of her once great hangars, she'd looked mutilated beyond recognition. Scorch marks scarred her hull. Armor plating twisted, deforming her into not even a shadow of her former self. The name Galactica didn't even shine proudly from her sides when he flew his viper past. The letters were scorched and broken. She'd sacrificed even proudly bearing her name to keep the people inside her safe. His heart had ached at the sight, and it felt perverse to let his eyes roam over all the wounds his ship had sustained in her life. With a painful lump in his throat, he'd turned his viper away and said goodbye, somehow making it down to the ground to only say goodbye again.

Now Galactica shone majestically before his eyes. He felt his heart throb and eyes mist, but he kept his hands steady on the controls of the raptor he piloted.

"We could almost pretend nothing happened looking at her now," Adama remarked to Tigh. Forget the Cylons. Forget the future. Forget every condition one. Forget every bullet. But the two old friends couldn't forget any of it. They sat in a cloud of melancholy while Adama guided the raptor toward one of Galactica's flight pods. Neither man could tear their eyes away from the grand old ship.

"That's some wishful thinking," Saul muttered, pulling out a flask. He growled at the burn of the liquid and shook his head to clear his thoughts. Adama glared at him, and Tigh put the flask away. He just needed a little liquid courage to face being back on Galactica. Tigh's heart was ready to burst from his chest in joy, but his mind reminded him of the many nightmares he'd seen within her hull.

"Why us Bill? Out of the billions of people on the Colonies, why we were the ones stuck saving humanity, and then those memories of saving humanity, so we could possibly do it all again?" His tone was cynical, but he barked out a strange laugh at his question.

"I don't know," Adama muttered, as he brought the raptor in for a smooth landing. The weight of the future was a burden, but he wouldn't have Laura without having experienced the future, and Zak would have been lost in a viper accident. They waited for the raptor to be towed into the hangar deck. Adama ran through their post-flight checklists. He glanced up every second; the Admiral wanted to see his old ship, but he didn't always recognize what he saw. It was too shiny.

"I'm an asshole. I'm a drunk. I've got issues. I come from a frakked-up family," he snorted at the allusion to his Cylon heritage, "I'm a prick, and I know it. There should have been someone better trying to save humanity in that timeline. There should be someone better trying to help prevent the apocalypse now," Saul grumbled, but his words made Bill grin. People could say what they wanted about Saul, but the man had a better sense of self-awareness than any other person Bill Adama had ever met. The door to the raptor opened, and they heard the familiar sounds of working deck crews.

"I'm a washed-up old Admiral now," Bill muttered so that only Saul could hear as they moved toward the raptor door. "I've made my share of mistakes. Why us indeed!"

"Admiral on deck," the two old friends heard someone call out. The resounding thud of an entire deck snapping to attention echoed around them.

"Permission to come aboard?" Tigh asked, addressing the senior most officer present.

"Permission granted sirs. Welcome aboard Admiral, Colonel," the officer greeted.

"It's good to be here. At ease," Adama commanded the deck.

They were escorted by the Officer of the Watch, a man stationed to Galactica before Gaeta, through the hallway toward CIC where Adama would take command.

"Yea. Seems inevitable doesn't it? We have to end up there," Saul growled and resigned himself to facing the future again. His hand twitched with the desire to reach for his flask.

"You made that sound like a death sentence," Bill said while looking over to his friend.

"Isn't it?"

"Nothing is certain," Bill argued.

"We could run. Take Ellen, Laura, and your kids and run. Live on New Caprica or Kobol," Saul offered wistfully as they drew closer to CIC.

"Could we live with ourselves if we did that?" Bill asked even if he found the idea tempting on some level. He wasn't willing to admit that weakness out loud.

"Probably not. Still tempting," Saul said, but they kept moving forward.

Every step through the corridors toward CIC reminded Adam of different memories, and one by one they slipped through his mind. He'd seen Starbuck jogging down these now clean corridors. He'd seen Apollo encouraging the pilots beside that freshly painted door. He was pretty sure Baltar had slammed himself into that fully functional wall panel. Photos, hundreds of photos, had adorned those now clear walls. Bill wondered if he'd ever seen Galactica so fresh looking, or if this was his wife's doing because of the overhaul. Maybe he just couldn't forget the last time he'd seen Galactica in their other life when she'd been a ghost of her former self.

The two men entered CIC. Both their old hearts skipped a beat at the familiar stations, displays, and atmosphere. Adama's heart beat wildly in his chest, but outwardly he schooled his features into their usual stoic passivity. Saul looked around wide eyed. He noted several crewmen eyeing him as well, assessing if the rumors about 'tight-ass Tigh' were true or not. He scowled at them.

"We're home Bill," Saul marveled in a whisper to his friend as they approached their posts.

"No," Bill said. Saul frowned at him incredulously, as if Bill had just announced that he had secretly been a skin-job all along. Bill rested his hands on the tactical table, feeling the familiar surface under his rough hands.

"She's seen plenty in her time but will fly true. Galactica is the best ship in the Fleet. She'll protect her crew and let us rest our heads at night, but in the end, your home is with Ellen. My home is with Laura," Bill explained to Saul in a low voice, looking at the clean metal walls and innocent faced crew.

As he took in his present surroundings, his mind flashed back to something Laura said, "You know, sometimes I wonder what 'home' is. Is it an actual place? Or is it some kind of longing for something, some kind of connection? You know, I spent my whole life on Caprica; I was born in one house, and then I moved to another. And then…this. And then now. I don't think I've ever felt truly at home until these last few months, here with you." Her gaze, both sad and intense, had pierced through to his heart, leaving him speechless; he was her home. That floored him. They'd talked more as Laura, confronted with her mortality, spoke of her never-to-be cabin in the mountains, with glass-like clear streams; remembering the dream they'd thought of as they sat under the sun and stars of New Caprica. He understood, she could think of it as home because he was there. Now, Galactica wasn't his home anymore.

…..

She walked toward the house she knew Roslin and Adama lived in. She was terrified but forced herself to keep going. This was the right choice, she told herself.

….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Title inspired by Zanderfrae
> 
> I think I’m recovering from being sick finally. Maybe. So, this chapter is brought to you by cold medicine! Blame the germs if this chapter isn’t the best.
> 
> Reviews are appreciated! Let me know if there’s something you want to see, what might be better, or what you loved!


	30. Running

She ran because she wanted to live life to the fullest, pushing her body within reason while the wind whipped through her hair and the blood pounded in her veins. It all helped her feel like she was fully living life. Her legs would throb and her sides would cramp, but each sensation told her body it was strong and alive. It also proved to be a good outlet.

Laura tugged her workout clothes on, knowing her irritation with everything would fade away with each mile she left behind. The day had yanked her around as if there were two firm hands grasping her shoulders intent on pushing and pulling her in every direction. She was tugging on her shoes when the phone rang, and she resisted the urge to grind her teeth in irritation.

"Hello," she answered, balancing the phone between her shoulder and her ear while pulling on her shoelaces with more force than necessary.

"What did he say young lady?" A gruff grumpy voice demanded. Laura paused and couldn't help the slight smile that crept onto her face.

"No cancer, Jack," she assured him. There was a loud exhale which came through the phone, and Laura could almost smell the smoke that doc Cottle must have been holding in while waiting for her answer. Her medical friend could give Bill a run for his money when it came to being overprotective in regards to her health.

"Do you need a second opinion?"

"One day, I will tell Bill that you keep trying to look at my chest again," Laura threatened lightly. Her teasing brought a bark of laughter out of Cottle.

"What's he gonna do, throw me in the brig? I can order a psych evaluation. Who do you think can actually scare who missy? Remember, Commanding Officers are all scared of their CMOs."

"Let me guess. It's the doctor's world; we're just living in it," Laura rolled her eyes.

"Damn straight," Cottle swore. Laura gave a loud harrumph to that idea as she stood up from tying her shoes.

"You still coming to dinner the 30th?" Laura asked.

"Yea. Is my little protege going to be there?"

"Yes, Zak's coming. You two can compare notes on torturing patients, lack of deference to authority, and the medical benefits of sarcasm," Laura quipped.

"It's important to maintain an image," he argued, and suddenly Laura heard a loud crash over the phone. "Frak. I need to go. One of your husband's hotshot pilots just came limping in. Can't wait to hear all about what stupid stunt they tried to pull. When's the next appointment?" Laura heard the scratch of a pen writing as she told him the date and felt a lightness to her heart. Cottle's outwardly facade was as abrasive as a porcupine's coat, but he had a big heart of gold buried under it. Laura knew he had a soft spot for her.

"Call you then," he promised, hanging up the phone.

….

Of all the words between Cylons and men, the saddest are, "it might have been." Her bruised heart knew the truth of these words but her mind tortured itself by asking the question again and again. Her feet carried her past the fields of children playing pyramid, and their laughter clanged in her ears. To her shame, she winced. How could she feel nostalgic what never was? The warm pain of tears spread across her eyes as she conjured up visions of cabins and children. With a shuddering breath she shoved the sunny vision to the side and settled for the truth of the setting sun, and the uneven path she turned to trip along.

The river she trudged beside captured her reflection, and she felt sick at the sight. Resentment and jealousy had poisoned her, slipping under her skin and invading her blood drip by drip until she was twisted away from the sweet summer child she'd been.

As she moved, the sun sank further down on the horizon, and the light grew weaker. She wondered if she could have been stronger, and what might have been if she'd broken free sooner. Would she have exploded free of her chrysalis prison and flown free as a butterfly? Instead, her hand had closed around the heavy metal of a gun, and she remained trapped. She felt the familiar weight of a gun in her waistband now. She'd planned the ambush well, knowing it would be better to happen here - out of sight.

There was a saying the Colonials had: "The muse Clio sings, and having recounted a tale moves on. No prayer can tempt her to change her tune. A million tears cannot change or mute even a note of it."

Her life, her choices, were like a heaviness she couldn't escape. Beside her the river rushed past - not unlike how her life had once rushed past until its current dragged her under. She'd struggled, until it felt better to drown. Death was a dark blanket - like the approaching nightfall, under which she could disappear. At the end there was not much else for her; she hadn't become a machine who could switch off her broken heart. Pain was the natural punishment for her choices, jealousy the natural result of another stealing her life.

Her focus shifted away from the river and back to the path. In a secluded spot, she stopped and waited. She hated waiting. Time ticked by.

Eventually, a woman jogged toward her, red hair matching the setting sun. Boomer lingered in the shadows under the trees by the river, their branches reaching for her to offer their dark protection. It allowed her to lie in wait without being noticed until the woman bound closer. When the runner was close enough the Cylon woman stepped away from the protection the foliage unconditionally offered her, her Cylon nature not mattering to bark and leaf.

The moment Sharon Valerii stepped into the path, the waning sunlight lit up her face. Noticing the recognition which flashed in Roslin's eyes, Boomer swallowed hard and prayed for the One true God to guide her through this encounter. Boomer raised her chin at Roslin who'd come to such an abrupt halt that dirt and twigs were kicked up around her feet.

Laura tripped and fell to her knees in an ungraceful heap but refused to take her eyes off Boomer. From how intensely she looked at the girl, Laura may as well have been eyeing a monster like the three headed Cerberus or a snarling Minotaur. The women stared each other down, assessing and calculating.

"Are you here to kill me?" Laura asked in a level voice, her palms and knees throbbing from where dirt and gravel had scratched her skin away. She ignored the pain. Her heart pounded hard and fast. The Cylon stood motionless a few meters away from her.

"That's not what I want," Boomer finally replied, but she hadn't wanted to shoot Adama either. Sadness broke free inside her hollowing her chest and wrenching her heart when she remembered pulling the trigger and seeing Adama fall. There had been so much blood. After that, why wouldn't Roslin assume the worst?

Laura stayed crumpled right where she'd crashed onto the ground with bloody palms and flushed cheeks. The older woman hated how vulnerable she felt on the dirt path, and the sweat dripping down her neck ran cold. She shuddered. Her security guards were home protecting her son. Backup was far away.

Boomer reached behind her and pulled out the gun. The steel glinted in the deepening twilight.

Roslin gave a sharp intake of breath when she saw the weapon. Bill's voice assuring her of his unending love and the smiling faces of her boys flashed in her mind, making it easier to look down the barrel of a gun without flinching. Laura had tried to live without regrets, but she would never have enough time in her husband's arms or watching her son's antics. She forced her panting to slow down and even out.

"What do you want Boomer?" Laura asked softly. She had known exactly who the Cylon was when she stepped into the path; that haunted look in the girl's eyes gave away who this Cylon was.

Boomer's eyes narrowed at the question. There she stood on the dirt path in silence and fear, for the demons inside had driven her here. But her demons didn't control her. Still, she was afraid of where her own choices might lead her again. Her heart told her to seek out Adama in this life and be honest.

"I want to live a good life," Boomer admitted. With a sudden growl she threw the gun, and it shuddered along the dirt until it rested in front of Laura. She placed her life in the older woman's hands. Roslin remembered a similar incident on Kobol.

The Caprican breeze was warm behind Sharon, lifting her hair and swirling it around her face. She smelled the earthy smell of wet dirt and fresh plants. Life.

"I want to make my own choices," Sharon whimpered. Tears fell down her face. She felt an entire unlived life spanning before her, yearning to be lived, beckoning her forward to its warm embrace.

"What do you choose Sharon?" Laura probed. She reached forward and grabbed the gun but decided not to aim it. However, despite the waning daylight, Laura was confident that Starbuck's lessons would result in her bullet flying true if the Cylon tried anything.

"I want… I want…" the Cylon choked. More tears spilled down her cheeks. "I want a cabin," she admitted and sagged against a tree, some bark cracking off under her weight. "I used to dream I'd have a husband and we'd build a wood cabin on Picon. We'd have a son and daughter." Something told her it was time to be honest. Boomer licked her lips, tasting salt. She looked down at where the other woman remained on the ground, holding very still.

Laura recoiled. There under the dusky sky of purple and indigo, she realized that this Cylon shared her deepest dream. Not like Caprica Six and Sharon Agathon had once shared her visions. No, Boomer shared her innermost desire of a quiet life in a cabin with a family. The realization was bitter and sobering, and yet a bit comforting. But she remained on guard.

"You shot my husband," Laura growled, gripping the gun tighter. Cylons were master manipulators; experience, the greatest teacher, had shown her that.

"I tried to kill myself first," Sharon remembered.

"Why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't," Sharon admitted; she barely trusted herself. "But we can help each other."

Laura pulled herself to her feet, groaning softly. She tucked the gun into the waistband of her shorts. The heels of her hands ached from where she'd braced herself to keep from landing on her face, and her knees protested their abuse. It felt like she'd wrenched a few joints in directions they were not supposed to flex. She ignored all that and drew herself up to her full height and stared the Cylon down.

"Start talking," Laura ordered in her old Presidential tone. The young woman seemed unsure, but it was hard to read her expression with how dark it had gotten.

"I'd like to speak with Admiral Adama as well," Boomer pushed, trusting the Old Man more than she trusted Madame Airlock. Besides, it would be nice, in a bittersweet way, to see her father-figure again.

"I'm sure he'd have plenty to say to you as well," Laura rasped, making the prospect of seeing Adama again sound as ominous as it was promising. "He isn't home right now," she admitted, although even if he was, Laura had no intention of bringing Sharon back to her house while Liam was there. However, intrigue pulsed in her mind, enough to tempt her into listening; the Cylon's talk of cabins struck a note of sympathy. Laura was no stranger to her dreams being yanked away from her.

"He'd probably say thank you," Sharon whispered, wiping a hand across her face to remove the tears there. "Thank you for the coordinates that led him to finding and rescuing you. Thank you for the engine problems on the ship that allowed him to catch us."

She was right; Bill would probably thank the Cylon. In fact, there was probably a lot he'd be willing to forgive out of thankfulness for any assistance given in returning his wife to him. Besides, her husband's judgment around the Sharon Cylon models had always made Laura uncomfortable. She was far more distrusting and sceptical. Still, Sharon's contribution to her rescue were a point in the Cylon's favor.

"Thank you," Laura offered.

"I owed him. I still do," Sharon replied.

"How much do you remember?" Laura asked. She glanced down at her palms to inspect the damage and noted that it felt worse than it looked.

"Everything. Just like Cavil did, but he's been taken care of," Sharon explained.

"Taken care of?" Laura observed Sharon, her head hung and the final rays of sunlight silhouetted her profile.

"He's been boxed. Not the whole line, just the individual who remembered the future," Boomer explained, licking her chapped lips. She shuddered, remembering Cavil being dragged to the boxing facility.

It took time, but Sharon calmly explained Cavil's antics over the last few years. Laura listened, folding her arms and holding herself against the chilling air. It was a lot to process.

"You should know," Sharon continued. "Cavil says it's his fault that he remembered the future. He was bragging. Told me all about it. There was something he used. An orb. It reset time. I know it sounds crazy, but here we are and…" Sharon trailed off and shrugged.

"Does he still have the orb?" Laura asked and every muscle in her body tensed. Her old fear time resetting, them forgetting, and of this life being snatched away flared up in her.

"No," Boomer assured.

"Why are you on the Colonies?" Laura asked. "You can't be the only Cylon here."

"They're starting to place us in Colonial society," Sharon relayed; betraying her people by giving this information over left a sour taste in her mouth. But this was the choice she was making, just as Athena had once made her choice. Boomer was snatching her life back. She hoped so anyway. "I have an apartment and I'll be attending the academy soon. I'm supposed to become a Raptor pilot...again."

"A sleeper agent."

"They want me to be, but I'm done being a pawn," Sharon groused.

"Are the attacks coming?" That was the vital question.

"They're assessing the Colonies still. They're planning something, but I'm supposed to be a sleeper agent. It's not like they Cylon council shares its plans with sleepers," Sharon said pushing off the tree and kicking a few pebbles around on the path. She felt antsy spilling her secrets to Laura Roslin. Before either of them could add anything else they heard someone coming.

"Secretary Roslin!" A man's voice called out, and both women froze. Laura turned and peered into the darkness, but she didn't have her glasses. "Secretary Roslin!"

"Mr. Tao," she called, recognizing the voice of her security guard. The man came up to her, concern in his eyes, and Laura realized how overdue she was and how dark it had gotten. "Ma'am?"

"I tripped and met this young lady. Nothing to worry about." She assured him, brushing the lingering dirt from her clothes, and smoothing her shirt over the gun. She didn't think her guard had noticed it. She turned back to Sharon, and the two women seemed to come to an unspoken agreement.

"I live at Sixty-Two Pollux Avenue, Apartment Twelve," Sharon said. It was late and they had an audience. The conversation was over. "I'll be there when you or the Admiral want to talk more." With that Sharon turned and walked away, disappearing into the night. Laura stood rooted to the spot for a moment, thinking of Cylons, orbs, and time. Finally, she turned and followed the dirt path she always jogged along home.

Her sputtering security guard trailed behind her. The man explained that her husband had called. He'd spoken with Liam until both her boys started growing concerned over how long Laura had been gone. Apparently, Bill had thundered at her security for letting Laura go running by herself. Laura huffed. Running was her time.

She knew she'd been gone longer than usual, having always returned home before the sun vanished from the sky. This time the stars looked down at the two figures making their way home, and it was dark enough that Laura could make out orange Scorpia and green Aerilon in the night sky.

A frown tugged at her features as the delayed shock of meeting Boomer began to settle in. Boomer remembered. There was an orb. The information rattled around in her mind, and she hoped Bill was still on the phone when she got home. He needed to know what happened, and she needed to hear his voice.

Upon entering her home, she listened for Liam and tracked his voice to the living room. There he was sprawled out on the floor with the phone next to him and a game in front of him.

"D3," Liam called out.

"Miss. A4?" Bill's voice came through the speakerphone, and Laura grinned as her heart was warmed at the sight. She stood and watched Liam for a moment. There were days he tested her patience and days he burned out every bit of energy she had, but Laura loved him with her whole heart and would protect him with everything she had.

"Hit. You destroyed my Battlestar dad," Liam huffed, sounding frustrated.

"You told me not to take it easy on you," Bill chided, chuckling at his son's tone. A finger to her lips, Laura caught Liam's eye as she approached and took a look at his game board. She pointed to a spot.

"C3!" Liam exclaimed, and waited.

"Hit," Bill grumbled. Liam giggled and marked the hit on his board.

"Mom helped, she's home," Liam admitted.

"Hello dear," Laura spoke.

"Someone didn't take their security detail with them," Bill growled, sounding rather tired of this argument.

"Liam's here. You're not allowed to be mad at me while Liam's here," Laura reasoned.

"Hmph. What do you think of that Liam?"

"Tell me where your escort class ship is, and I'll be on your side," the boy bargained. Laura raised an eyebrow at Liam who just shrugged. He really wanted to finally beat his dad at this game.

"No deal. Why don't you let me talk to your mom now, ok buddy?"

"Sure. Can we finish playing Battlestar when you call again?"

"Of course," Bill allowed. "Love you Liam. Goodnight."

"Love you too, Dad. Miss you," Liam scoped up the phone and handed it to his mother who flicked speakerphone off. She told her son to finish his homework and start getting ready for bed. She watched him leave before heading to the study.

"Bill?" Laura asked into the phone, her voice sounding breathy even to her. She collapsed into the leather chair behind the desk.

"Laura, what's wrong? Did something happen?" he asked reading her tone easily.

"Boomer," she heard the creaking of his chair, and knew he'd sat up straight. "Boomer remembers," she told him and didn't hold anything back. She told her husband everything that had happened between her and the Cylon while on her run. Her voice trembled when she described Boomer pointing the gun to her, the repressed anxiety finally bubbling to the surface.

"She said that Cavil talked about an orb Bill! An orb he used to reset time," Laura explained.

"You think it's like the glowing orb from your dream?" he asked.

"Maybe. Seems like a big coincidence. Gods, I'm sick of my dreams," she exclaimed in exasperation.

"Laura it's going to be OK," he promised.

"You can't promise that. Now we know that our timeline was deliberately reset. We have no way of knowing if it will happen again or preventing it. We could lose each other and Liam. Our family."

"You said Boomer mentioned that Cavil no longer had the orb. He hasn't found it yet in this timeline, and he's been boxed. That's some small consolation," Bill comforted.

"Small," Laura conceded.

"When I come home, we'll go talk to Boomer. Maybe we can get more information out of her."

"Wish you were here," Laura murmured.

"Me too, but I'll be home in a few days."

"I know. I still want you home; it's been a long day," she relaxed back into the leather office chair.

"How did your doctor's appointment go?" Adama asked, knowing that hadn't helped her day feel any less trying.

"All the scans and tests came back clear Bill. You can relax."

"Nothing new?"

"Well, there was no sign of cancer," Laura sighed, her words carefully evasive.

"What else did the doctor say Laura?" Bill wasn't fooled.

"The doctor confirmed," Laura began, but a lump formed in her throat. She took a deep breath, wanting to have had longer to process what the doctor had told her. "I'm starting to go through menopause, explains why we can't agree on the thermostat temperature when you're home," she tried to joke but even she could hear the sadness in her voice.

"I'm sorry Laura," Bill comforted knowing she'd wanted another child.

"I have you and Liam. Zak and Lee too. It's more than I ever dared to ask for," Laura said softly. Bill wanted nothing more than to be home holding his wife. "Now I just hope the Cylons don't take it all away… I can't…" her voice cracked.

"Neither can I, Laura," Bill soothed hearing her sniffle over the phone.

….

That night, Laura dreamed of her classroom again. She looked at the list of names still written on the board. This time, next to the name Athena was written Sharon 'Boomer'' Valerii. Athena, goddess of war and wisdom. Laura knew Sharon had seen her share of war; maybe the Cylon had gained a bit of hard earned wisdom as well.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a beta! Huge thanks to Zanderfrae for keeping my grammar pretty-like. <3 <3 <3
> 
> 6 Remember. 6 More to awaken.


	31. What Happened

Bill stayed behind Laura to observe her; his wife stood at the side of a pyramid court concentrating on the scrimmage. Her body tensed like a lioness ready to pounce into the court. Pyramid could be a rough sport, and her son was one of the smallest children on the team and the others easily pushed him around. She held back. His two older brothers, Zak and Lee, had taught Liam to be tough. His adoptive big sister Kara had trained Liam's aim with a pyramid ball to be deadly. Bill knew that would earn Liam the respect of his team.

The proud father grinned when his son snatched up the ball and sunk it into a goal. An opponent slammed into Liam as he dashed to recover the ball, and Bill noticed Laura's wince. Liam laughed and jumped up, his parents' stubbornness and determination coursing through his veins. Relaxing, Laura cheered her son on from the sidelines.

Bill stood tall and took it all in with a grin; this was his life. He would protect it.

In the previous timeline, he'd been all soldier all the time. Then the Admiral wouldn't have known the name of his son's team. There were times Zak and Lee told him about games over the phone, but he'd never felt invested. Those moments still shamed him now. The tragedies he'd endured had changed him. His relationship with his wife and the profound effect she'd had on him, in addition to the hardships he'd faced, forced him to see the world differently and to embrace life more fully. Every day he acknowledged this precious second chance.

Bill Adama wasn't perfect, but he'd become a better man. He now knew Liam practiced pyramid every Thursday afternoon. The final score to Zak's championship game was stamped in his mind, and he'd been present when Lee stormed off the court once in a grand (and embarrassing) huff. The truth was that the everyday things mattered so, so, so much.

The tableau of a concerned yet loving mother keeping an eye on her son broke when Laura glanced behind her. His heart skipped a beat when their eyes met. Her effect on him would always be powerful. Having been caught watching, he strode over to join her. There was no time to open his mouth to speak before Laura threw her arms around him.

"Missed you!" she gasped against his neck, and he chuckled at her enthusiasm. He'd been away from her for only two weeks, but sometimes even a day felt like an eternity.

"Thought that was my line?" he teased, tightly hugging her against himself. Her giggles broke free and vibrated against his chest. He loved that sound. "How's he doing?" Bill asked when they turned to face the field.

"Well, he doesn't like being the smallest person on the team," Laura explained, tensing when a particularly tall child crashed into Liam. Their boy's face reddened in frustration, but he didn't stop moving.

"He inherited your stubborn pride," Bill muttered, and chuckled when Laura elbowed him in a retort. They both knew that the blame for Liam's stubborn pride rested on more than just her shoulders. Happy, he slipped an arm around his wife's waist, and she sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"How did you know where Liam was practicing?" she asked.

"After I got home, I asked the security guard there to radio over to the one with you... It's sometimes beneficial to have your security with you, Laura," Bill growled unable to resist the jab.

"Wow, Bill. Home for five minutes before being overbearing. Military efficiency," she goaded always irritated when she felt her independence was being overly threatened.

"I don't want to come home and hear that something's happened to my family. You're lucky Boomer didn't try anything!" Bill fumed quietly. Laura couldn't argue that; she had been very lucky. She gave a resigned sigh, and Bill knew he'd won the round. However, he knew better than to gloat; if he did this would be the last confrontation he'd ever walk away from as the victor.

"When will we go talk to her?" Laura enquired. Boomer was a topic that hadn't strayed from either of their minds over the past few days.

"Tomorrow I will," Bill replied. He wanted to get it over with; after all, there was no sense in leaving the guillotine blade hanging when it inevitably had to fall.

"I'm coming with you," Laura decided. She set her jaw and waited for the inevitable counter.

"Laura…" There it was. She could practically hear Bill grinding his teeth in frustration. A good chunk of their relationship was based on navigating around what happened when an immovable object met and unstoppable force.

"Not only is Boomer a Cylon, but that particular eight manipulated the people around her as if they'd been clay. She is also the woman that betrayed you and shot you. You are not facing it alone," Laura pushed. She wouldn't be talked down from this position. She felt him tense and she heard the growl of frustration, but the man couldn't spit his arguments out before Liam stumbled over. With little ceremony, he fell against his dad dramatically.

"That was rough," he whined. "I suck at pyramid!"

"You did good," Bill assured him, but Liam only huffed at his father unconvinced. Placing both hands on Liam's shoulders, he looked down at the boy's frowning face. "Did you know I used to be the smallest person on my pyramid team too?" That interested Liam whose gaze darted up in curiosity. "It was rough at first, but I loved playing. Our team got it together and ended up winning the championship. I was voted MVP by my teammates. Even went on to be team captain in high school for a year before…"

"The Cylon War. You joined up instead of finishing your senior year," Liam finished, having heard many of his father's war stories, at least, from the first Cylon war. He tilted his head to the side. "You were the smallest too dad?" he asked, and Bill nodded.

"Yea. And, like me, you're an Adama. We don't give up; we rise up against the odds." Words of wisdom the Adama family lived by. Spirits lifted, Liam didn't notice the way his parent's grips on the other tightened as they thought about the odds they'd beaten and the odds they hadn't. Instead, Liam simply grinned up at his father having been moderately soothed by a tale of commiseration and triumph. He dashed off to get his equipment.

"Alright. Together tomorrow. You win, Laura," Bill muttered in concession. The odds had always been better when they were together.

…

Meeting Boomer weighed heavily on their minds. Distractions helped pass the time. A son who wanted to hear stories from the first Cylon War, a spouse who wanted quality time, and a series of projects around the house all kept the Adama family occupied. The next day dawned. Adama and Roslin made their way over to Boomer's address.

The elevator lurched into movement with a vibrating groan that Roslin and Adama both felt seep into their bones. They were each hyper-aware of every sound, every move, and every sight. Anticipation pulsed around them as noticeably as the beating of their own hearts. Dread, too. It crept up their spines like a spider up a wall.

"Stop looking at me like that, Laura," Bill growled. A cold hard look had settled in his eyes, and Laura had been staring, transfixed. This was the soldier she'd first met: all uniform and discipline. Looking at him now, she didn't doubt he was the man who could assemble a rifle blindfolded in less than a minute or the pilot who could zip his viper through a storm of raiders. With a jolt, she remembered what kind of man Bill Adama was. Powerful. Strong. Dangerous.

"Like what?" she asked, swallowing hard.

"Like I'm a thermonuclear bomb that might go off at any moment."

"Sorry," she muttered, forcing herself to look away. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, the confined space too small to pace in. Bill sighed and reached over to take her hand, giving it a light squeeze in comfort and as a silent apology for his brusque tone. Laura understood.

The elevator moved at a snail's pace giving Laura far too much time to let her mind wander. She hadn't been in CIC when Boomer shot Adama. Minutes before, her darling husband had tossed her in the brig. It had been a shock when Lee arrived with his hands covered in dark crimson blood and telling her that his father had been shot; the sight had caused her to tremble more than the cold air of the brig cell ever could. With nothing but time on her hands behind the iron bars, her imagination had supplied the grisly details she hadn't witnessed. There had been so much blood.

A ding echoed in the elevator, and then the lift doors parted. Bill's face remained stone cold, but he held Laura's hand tighter, like how a drowning man clutched a lifeline. Toward Boomer's apartment they moved and stood in front of the door for a moment. Bill felt the weight of the coming reunion. It pressed down on his shoulders, daring him to buckle under the pressure. But he didn't. Instead he stood tall and raised his fist, giving a hard knock against the door.

Boomer opened it and gasped. She'd tried to mentally prepare herself but quickly realized nothing could have prepared her for seeing her old leaders again. Her mouth opened as if to speak, but her throat felt dry and constricted. When no words came, she simply opened the door wider and stood to the side.

The three of them moved into the apartment. It was jarring. Everywhere Roslin and Adama turned something in the room connected the Cylon girl to humanity. Books written by humans stood on shelves, and Adama knew the Sharon Valerii he'd known would actually enjoy reading these tomes. Warm colors of green, ivory, and brown decorated the space, which fit the friendly and kind-hearted rook who'd joined the Galactica crew. Elephant figurines displayed prominently on the coffee table reminded Bill of the little knick-knacks in his own home. So human.

Threat assessment came first. Adama's eyes swept over Boomer, ensuring the girl wasn't armed. Unwilling to take more risks than necessary, his own hand didn't stray far from his sidearm. Of course, he'd brought it. Showing up was enough of a gamble, even if his heart told him that this wasn't a trap. What if he was wrong?

They eyed each other in the living room, but Boomer couldn't maintain Adama's gaze. Her eyes flicked back and forth between the carpet and the Admiral. It reminded Bill of his sons' behavior when they knew they were in trouble. How many times had he sat behind his desk, folded his hands on the hard surface, and watched one of the boys shift uncomfortably on the other side? The comparison made his heart twist.

"Thank you," Adama offered when Boomer finally met his eyes for a long moment. Inclining his head in Laura's direction, he is indicating exactly what he was thankful for: Boomer's help with Laura's rescue.

"It was the right thing to do," Boomer confessed. She forced herself to stay still under Adama's inspection. It felt like she was on trial and awaiting her sentencing, but it was better than feeling like a machine undergoing inspection. Boomer supposed so anyway. For a long minute it felt like there was an electrical storm in her brain, painful and intense. There was no retreat, and she remained frozen and had to force herself to keep breathing.

"Why?" Adama asked. How many times had he wanted to ask Valerii that question.

"I've changed since I was originally activated," she admitted, not entirely sure what Adama wanted to know. Somehow that seemed like the right answer.

"An incident I remember rather well," Bill growled. He remembered when Sharon pulled out her gun in CIC; it hadn't even occurred to him that she'd shoot at him. He'd been certain that she must have seen a threat. The shot rang out. He'd felt something deep and warm inside him. Then the pain exploded in his guts, squeezing his organs. He'd heard the second shot, and felt more pain wreck his body. People had screamed. To him, only pain had existed until it dragged him into unconsciousness. During that time, he could still recall a flash of clarity and lucidity during which he realized he probably would die.

But he'd survived only to play the moment again and again like a bad nightmare over the years. Boomer's apartment faded away and for a moment he was back in CIC, falling back onto the tactical table. A subtle brush against his side brought him back to the present, and he noticed Laura had stepped close, nudging him back into reality. Jarred back into the present, he realized Boomer had been speaking.

"... was like watching something happen on a screen, like at the movies, and even though I was screaming and wanting to stop what was happening, I couldn't… " Boomer lamented until her voice cracked. Her shoulders slumped, and it seemed like a switch had flipped, turning an internal heater on inside her system. Her face burned and flushed, but the tears stayed away. Embarrassment was one of the more poignant of human emotions, and it blazed in her under Adama's stoic gaze. "I'm sorry," she whispered. He didn't reply right away. Instead, his blue eyes stared her down.

"No one can imagine what any of us went through, or what it was like," Adama finally offered, unwilling to offer any further reconciliation or condemnation for the moment.

"How can you be sure you have no secret orders again?" Roslin demanded.

"Only sleeper agents have imbedded programming like I once had. You can't program a self-aware Cylon who knows they're a Cylon. We have free will," Sharon explained.

"Helo explained what you did with Hera. Returning her."

"I know that doesn't make up for everything," Boomer sighed, glancing at Roslin and knowing the ex-president was the harsher and less forgiving of the two. She had to make her intentions plain. "I don't want it to happen again. The attacks. What happened on Galactica. The sabotage. Taking Hera. The occupation of New Caprica... " At the mention of New Caprica, Boomer trailed off.

New Caprica had broken Sharon Valerii in some ways more than it had broken the humans. After that disaster, she knew she'd never be able to go back to humanity. So, she'd decided to become the machine they believed her to be, and she became a follower. Cavil, she decided, could make the choices because her instincts were clearly all wrong.

"I remember you on New Caprica," Roslin said. Boomer and Caprica Six were always easy to spot on New Caprica; they were the only ones who ever looked even moderately troubled at the situation. And yet, even shame wasn't the right word to describe the look in their eyes. They were just uncomfortable.

"I want you to know I had nothing to do with what happened to you or anyone else in the detention or medical centers," Boomer promised, looking at Laura. The older woman realized that now there was shame in her eyes.

"With what happened on New Caprica?" Bill demanded, looking between Laura and Boomer, although both women were suddenly refusing to meet his eyes. Intuition told him he was missing a large piece of the puzzle.

"Bill," Laura muttered in a warning, noting how his hands on his hips and his feet were planted in a wide stance. She could almost feel how tightly his lips were pressed together. The Adama stance; she knew it well. He was determined to get what he wanted and was willing to wait to get it, even though he'd already known there were things that happened on New Caprica she hadn't told him. He also knew pushing her for answers she didn't want to give would be an exercise in futility, so she watched him switch his gaze to Boomer.

"And did you watch them hurt your old comrades. Saul? Cally? Galen?" Adama growled in a low and dangerous voice. Boomer trembled.

"I only heard about what happened. I was never there. I never had anything to do with interrogations, tortures, or experiments," Boomer protested in a shaky voice. Bill started to realize how much he'd underestimated what took place.

"Experiments?" Adama asked and his blood ran cold when Laura shifted uncomfortably. Her lips pursed and her hands fidgeted. She opened her mouth as if to speak but found herself speechless like Boomer had earlier. Adama glared at Boomer, as if a look alone could suck the answers out of the Cylon. Boomer flinched and took a step back, but it didn't lessen the fire being directed at her. She had to answer.

"Baltar… Baltar told the Cylons about how he'd used Hera's blood to cure the President of her cancer. On New Caprica, with Hera supposedly dead, that cure was the only link to the child," Boomer explained hesitantly, and glanced at Roslin in sympathy. "You were the only way to learn about Hera."

"Frak," Bill muttered as his mind imagined the worst. He'd read Kara's report of what Cylons were doing to the people left behind on the Colonies. There was no Hippocratic oath the Cylon doctors took; captured humans were at the mercy of Simon models.

"Bill, I survived. A lot of people didn't," Roslin murmured, downplaying what happened to her. Besides, she supposed in the end it was her own fault the Cylons were so interested in her. She'd kidnapped Hera to protect her and then suffered for it. Then again, kidnapping Hera may have kept her safe on New Caprica, and Laura would willingly endure Cylon hospitality again to keep Hera safe. The urge to laugh suddenly erupted in Laura's chest, but she managed to keep the giggles at bay for once; her whole presidency had to be the ultimate textbook example of the phrase 'damned if we do, damned if we don't.'

"And the Cylons didn't experiment and learn enough on New Caprica, so you just had to kidnap Hera and finish the job?" Adama demanded, trying not to let his anger erupt. 'Respond, don't react,' his first CO, Commander Nash had once told him. He'd perfected being the calm at the center of the storm over the years, and it gave him power. So, he took a deep breath and cooled some of his rage while listening to Boomer.

"We only learned about how Hera's blood affected humans. About how its heightened resistance to disease, and how to counter the effects. We couldn't get enough information from… New Caprica to help create another hybrid," Boomer explained. It was almost painful to be honest, not to give them half-answers or evasions. She wondered if telling the truth was sentencing her to prison or setting her free. It was clear the truth hurt, as realization dawned on Adama and Roslin.

"Counter the effect Hera had?"

"Yea…"

"They didn't… oh my Gods!" Laura gasped. She stumbled back and sat on the couch as the room spun. Her stomach tightened and her throat clenched. A warm feeling rose in her chest and she could taste the bile at the back of her throat. It made sense. Oh Gods, it made perfect sense.

"Simon was ordered by Cavil to use what he learned to counter the effect Hera's blood was having on you. He was always mad about being thrown out an airlock and knew you would always be a threat to the Cylons," Boomer admitted, in a small voice. She reminded herself to keep breathing as a deep oppressive silence filled the room. The atmosphere was so tense it should have snapped.

Adama was shaking with rage, his fists opening and closing. Fury pulsed through him. He marched over to Sharon and stood above her, so she had to look up in order to meet his eyes. His control was slipping.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't drag your Cylon ass to the authorities. Give me on frakkin' reason," he seethed.

"I'm trying to help," Sharon muttered. "But if that's what you need to do…" She shrugged and resigned herself to her fate. Adama pushed himself away from her and crossed back over to his wife. She sat wide-eyed and shocked. He touched her shoulder gently, bringing her back to the present. She reached up and covered his hand with her own, and he felt how it shook.

"I'm not going to turn you over," Adama allowed, and he noted the grateful look Boomer gave him. "But, if you have anything to tell us, now is the time," he growled.

Over the next hour Boomer explained everything. She told them about being manipulated by John Cavil. She told them about how the old Cylon had made sense to her for a time. She dispassionately revealed her jealousy of Athena who'd come in and stolen her life. She told them about reawakening in this time and deciding to help Adama find Laura by sending the message. She revealed her old life and laid it before them like an offering.

"I don't know what the Cylons are planning, but I can promise to tell you when I know anything," Boomer assured them when she finished. She felt raw and exposed.

"Tell me more about the orb," Laura requested. Boomer nodded.

"He said it was called the Orb of Chronos, although he never liked the pagan god's name in its title. Cavil found it in the other timeline, and he kept it from the others. Always had to have the upper hand. He was on a heavy raider when it stumbled across the Guardian's ship. He never said much about the encounter, but I think it shook him. I know the Hybrid was holding the orb and Cavil took it from him. Cavil escaped with it but never fully learned how it worked. I think that was one of the projects he pursued on the Colony ship. At some point he triggered the orb, but he didn't tell me much about that. He knew it would send him back in time somehow, but there wasn't much he could do to control it," she gave her report with the discipline of a Colonial soldier. The facts were presented with little emotion.

"He doesn't have the orb now?" Laura clarified.

"No. He didn't know where it was. Somewhere with the Guardian probably. Future Cavil is boxed now, but before he was taken it sounded like this had happened before. Like he'd used the orb in the previous timeline, or someone had, anyway. I think future Cavil used that knowledge to help place the Final Five in the fleet and to know where to place sleeper agents."

"I'm getting a headache," Roslin muttered, crossing her arms. The implications of Boomer's information were staggering. Her mind was on overdrive trying to process it all.

"We can't let Cavil get ahold of the orb again. We have to find it first," Roslin realized, and sighed. Why couldn't life be simple?

"I'll do what I can to help," Boomer promised.

Adama and Roslin met the other's gaze and come to a wordless understanding.

"We need time to take this all in," Adama groused.

"I'll be here," Boomer promised. Adama gave a crisp nod. He barely had any civil words to say. He clenched his jaw and helped Laura to her feet, and with a soothing hand on the small of her back guided her toward the door first.

Adama gave one final glance behind them as they left and saw what may as well have been a scared little girl, or a mistress of manipulation. He wasn't sure which. He needed to think. He needed space. He felt Laura's gentle grip tugging him through the door after her.

…..

The atmosphere was tense at home. Bill and Laura barely spoke to each other, but only because they just didn't know what to say. What could they say after Bill learned what he had?

Laura seemed hit particularly hard, but she'd just learned how her life had been stolen by the Cylons. She'd only poked at dinner and would stare vacantly at nothing for long stretches of time. When their son started picking up on how disturbed his mother was, Laura retreated to the bedroom. There she sat in the reading nook, looking out the window. Her favorite blue scarf wrapped around her trapped in warmth, but she still shivered and pulled the fabric tighter. "Searider Falcon" lay open on her lap, the familiar pages offering comfort.

"Found you," Bill said, slipping into the bedroom and closing the door behind him. He looked at his wife where she was curled up in the reading nook. They were getting old again, he realized. She looked more like the woman he'd first met. There were wrinkles around her eyes; lines that he'd once known so well, a map of their incredible journey.

"Wasn't hard, was it?" came her smooth reply.

"I want to know," Adama pushed refusing to beat around the bush. They were direct people.

Laura shuddered, those painful memories of New Caprica during the occupation were like books with chapters, deep and horrible. She'd made the choice to put them on a shelf to gather dust. They were only picked up on the rarest of occasions. She'd rather focus on the blank pages of her life.

"It's not easy to talk about," she muttered finally. "And I'm not sure I want you to know," she admitted. This didn't surprise Bill. He was a soldier in the Colonial Fleet - he specialized in black ops for years. His training had included interrogation techniques - a polite way of saying torture. He'd tortured people and knew what reaction to expect, and it pained him to see that haunted look on the face of the woman he loved.

"I know you still have nightmares from it. It's the one thing you won't share with me." Bill's face revealed nothing, but Laura heard the hurt in his voice. She still didn't want to reveal how violated she'd been. How weak she'd felt. But Bill was her partner. It was safe to be open with him.

She hugged the book to her as emotions tumbled within her, and when she opened her eyes, she saw Bill kneeling beside her. There was no judgement in his eyes, only love, tenderness, and so much concern. The Cylons stripped away every feeling of safety she'd ever had. How could she put everything she'd experienced into words? Laura didn't realize she'd begun crying until Bill's thumb was wiping away the tears.

"They would take me. Usually from my tent. Usually at night when no one would notice," she began. It was a fight to force the words out, but Bill was desperate to know what had happened. "It didn't matter if I fought. I think they enjoyed when I resisted because they could be rough. They dragged me by the hair once," she pressed herself back into the corner of the reading nook as the memories came back to her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she remembered the fear and anxiety that had been her everyday reality. "They'd toss me into a cell. It was bright. So frakkin' bright." She paused taking a few shuddering breaths and pulled the scarf even tighter around her.

Bill's own heart ached as he listened to Laura. Serving in the military had prepared him to fight, suffer, and die in the line of duty. Laura, brave and fierce as she was, didn't have that same benefit. And she'd managed to keep all this from him for years.

He slowly moved to sit next to her on the small window bench, their sides pressed together. He felt her shivering, despite her wool shawl tucked around her. There was nothing he could say that would help, and he knew that. Being there for her with no judgment was what she needed. It only took a second for Laura to respond to his presence, shifting so she leaned against him and burrowing into the wool of his sweater.

Letting his presence comfort her, she was able to continue.

"I'd be forced to strip and given a prison jumpsuit to wear. It always smelled," she remembered, and could almost feel the four concrete walls of her old cell pushing in on her again.

'We're just not getting through to you anymore, are we?' Cavil sneers, shoving her hard against the wall. Her bruises and cuts scream in agony. Someone hits her from behind, and her body crumples to the floor, all her energy drained. 'Chain her back up; I want to try something different.' She isn't sure who grabs her, but she's wrenched off the ground.

Gasping, Laura reached out and felt Bill's warm hand close around hers, anchoring her to the present. His warm, gravelly voice whispered soothing words into her ear, promising she was safe now. It took several moments before she was able to continue, but her voice was hoarse from tears.

"They always had questions. I never answered. So, they'd try and beat the answers out. Unlike with Saul, on me they never left a mark where someone could see it. The bruises and cuts would be there for days, though," she remembered how her arms ached after being restrained. She remembered feeling exhausted.

"Gods, Laura. What would they ask? You were a civilian for frak's sake," Bill raged, but Laura couldn't seem to form an answer. How could she tell him that the Cylons took her because of him, because of their friendship, and not just because she was the ex-president. This was exactly why she hadn't told him everything the second she stepped foot on the Galactica again after New Caprica. She knew he'd feel guilty, even though none of this was his fault. Besides, she didn't need him rejecting her because they each revealed the weakness of the other.

"They wanted to know who the insurgents were. They wanted…" she looked at their clasped hands and took a deep breath. "They wanted to know where you'd gone," she whispered. "They thought you'd have told me where you'd jump to and what your plan was if you came back, and they tried to drag the information out of me. I don't even remember everything they did, to be honest. They never held me for long; I think they worried about turning me into a martyr. Suppressing Hera's blood was brilliant. Just let the cancer come back and kill me," she sniffed.

Bill couldn't just hold her hand hearing this. He slipped his arms around her and held her tight while letting his own tears come. To hear how she'd suffered was its own hell. No wonder she'd hated Baltar as deeply as she had. He remembered how she couldn't even stand to be in the same room in him during the algae planet incident. To his horror, he realized she wasn't done, and he listened as more of the story came out, the dam now broken.

"That's when they wanted to interrogate me. Other times, I'd be taken to their medical facility. Always under the cover of night. They didn't give me a jumpsuit there after forcing me to take my clothes off. The humiliation was almost as bad as the pain," Laura's voice had dropped, and Bill strained to hear her. He stroked her hair as she leaned against him.

"There were medical tests. Needles. They drew blood sometimes and injected me with who knows what other times. It was always so cold," she shuddered. "There was pain and sometimes it felt like it would never end. They never kept me for long though. They always returned me before sunrise. I never knew when they'd come for me again." Her voice cracked and she pressed further into Bill's embrace.

"I should have been there to protect you. Should have…"

"No Bill!" Laura exclaimed cutting him off. "You did the right thing; the smart thing and you know it. Even if it hurts, you know there was no other option. And you came back." There was warmth in her teary voice. But her eyes were frozen like the ice of a pond - the memories of New Caprica robbing them of her usual warmth. Her blank face made it seem like she'd taken a huge step back from life as she reached back and remembered the trauma she'd endured on New Caprica.

"I'll always come back for you," Bill swore, and she shivered at how fiercely they were spoken. She knew he would fight to the death to get back to her if they were separated again.

"Now you know everything. It… it feels like a relief actually, to tell you everything," she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. Sometimes, she knew, the bravest thing a person could do is show their tears.

"You are the strongest woman I know, Laura Roslin," Bill murmured, kissing her forehead. After all she'd endured, he made a silent promise to not let anything like New Caprica ever happen to her again.

"You're the best man I know, William Adama," she replied, and they sat together. He couldn't believe how much faith she still had in him after everything.

"I'm the most foolish," he huffed. "If I hadn't talked you out of stealing the election… you'd have been spared New Capric. You'd have lived out your life on Earth," he grumbled. "I made so many stupid mistakes. I was the one who lied about Earth first. I didn't send a recon raptor before jumping us to a nuclear wasteland and declaring to the entire fleet we'd been saved. You suffered as a result of all of that. And instead of helping, I just kept trying to drink myself into oblivion."

"Bill please! Don't do this to yourself. We both made mistakes that caused us to suffer," she countered.

"You deserved better."

"I lived long enough find love and know you loved me back. We saved our people. We found Earth. You've always been the one who encouraged me to accept everything that happened." She watched him and saw the guilt in his eyes: another reason she'd kept New Caprica a secret, but it was time to heal and move on.

"I have this life. This dream. What happened on New Caprica wasn't my fault or your fault, neither were the fifty thousand other things we had to overcome. We made the best out of a bad situation," Laura argued. She knew her husband was stubborn in his opinions. When he looked at her, she saw the grim look on his face. She sighed. "Bill, stop it. The past is the past."

"I'm glad you finally told me everything," he said sincerely. She smiled sadly, before handing him "Searider Falcon".

"You haven't read to me from our book in a while," she murmured. Bill sighed, knowing what she was trying to do, but it has been a long time since he has been able to deny her anything. He flicked open the book.

"I was on chapter fifteen," she murmured, closing her eyes and settling back. He began to read.

"'The volcano had lain dormant on the island for as long as I'd lived there. But legends tell of angry gods who threw ash and fire down from the mountain's peak. Every day it threatened to starve the island of light and clean air. Every day I laughed it off; what else could I do? I couldn't stop such a force of nature. Fate bound him to her, and there was no escape. She guided him through the good and bad; all that was meant to be.'"

…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: It bothered me how the cancer just came back, even though Cottle was like... 'its gone.' It also seemed like Roslin would have been a much higher target on New Caprica than the show showed. My thoughts anyway. Reviews are always loved and appreciated!


	32. Taking a Break from All Your Worries

Leonis

Surviving Richard Adar's reelection campaign had tested Laura's endurance. Boomer's reappearance less than a month ago and their subsequent inability to decide whether to trust her only caused the tension to grow. Bill knew Laura needed a break. Her mind was a merry-go-round that spun through the worries of the day, the worries of tomorrow, and the worries of days long past. He wasn't any better.

So, in a stroke of madness or brilliance, he'd whisked Laura away for a weekend to a resort. Somehow, Saul and Ellen had managed to invite themselves along. All bets were off as to how the weekend would go. Upon arrival, the other pair seemed content to dash off to their own rooms at the other end of the resort, while Bill led Laura to theirs.

One second Laura was walking into the room and in the next she was being grabbed around the waist and pushed against the wall. It was definitely a pleasant outcome. Carolanne had quickly tired of him and their life and didn't hesitate in sharing her bitterness. He shoved that thought to the side; in front of him stood a wife who'd been perfectly happy with him for years, and she was making that clearer by the second.

"You need to relax," he said, the baritone of his voice reverberating through Laura while a strong arm wrapped around her. She only had a second to breathe before her husband was kissing her deeply. It was passionate and demanding, from a soldier willing to give no quarter. He wanted her and she knew it, and it thrilled her to be so ardently desired by the man she loved.

One of Bill's hands wound in her hair, grabbing a fist full of the chestnut strands he loved before pulling. He tugged her head back, baring her pale neck to him. Her nails digging into his back, the feeling of her clinging to him had him grinning happily against her skin. A plan began forming in his mind as kissed his way along her neck.

"Bill, I..." Laura's breathless whisper was interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

"Bill! Laura! Are you in there?" a loud, feminine voice called, shattering the heady atmosphere. A growl was the instant response Bill gave as he dropped his head to Laura's shoulder. Ellen Tigh's voice, Laura decided, irritated her more than nails on a chalkboard.

"You promised dinner and drinks!" Saul yelled.

"Bill, if I didn't love you so much, I'd toss you out an airlock for letting them come along."

…..

Caprica

Flames danced up in the air. The smoldering fire cast its light on the faces of the mesmerized crowd. Liam's wide eyes gawked at the juggler tossing the blazing torches up in the air. Their bright orange glow arched through the air and returned to the master's hands. One of many such displays at the festival.

Liam gulped down the nectar slushie Kara had indulged him with. He grinned while standing in between Zak and Lee, enjoying the time with his brothers. Kara herself stood behind and deliberately irritated him by using his head as an armrest. He took another gulp of sugary goodness and decided to let Kara do what she wanted. An older sister with a paycheck and an indulgent attitude was allowed to tease him.

"Slow down, you're not getting any more sugar," Lee cautioned, eyeing his youngest brother. Liam glared at him and very deliberately took a long slurp and grinned when Lee's eyes narrowed at him. Then he turned to Kara and Zak.

"You're not going to let him be a spoil-sport all night, are you?" Liam asked, looking at them with big green eyes. Lee tried to shoot the others a withering look, but they seemed thoroughly immune him and thoroughly under Liam's spell.

"While the cat's away the mice will play, right Hot-Shot?" Kara asked Liam while nudging Lee as if to say, 'lighten up.' Liam giggled. Laura and Bill, AKA mom and dad, were gone for the weekend. Liam, AKA Hot-Shot, although fairly self-sufficient, was left in the care of the three stooges: Kara, Lee, and Zak.

"Come on boys, let's check out what else this festival has to offer us!" Kara laughed and linked her arm with frowning Lee's and pulled him along.

Music filled the air, festive beats from different groups all celebrating the coming of spring. Every few steps there were artists, mimes, dancers, and performers. The air smelled like a heavenly kitchen with vendors preparing every delicious and sugary thing Liam could want and Lee wouldn't let him eat. Girls with flowers in their hair celebrated Persephone, the spring goddess. However, when the Adama boys purchased a crown of flowers for Kara, she made a valid attempt to choke them all with it.

…

Leonis

Being secluded at a corner table was a relief. Ellen laughed, flirted, and chatted easily. She even winked at the waiter when he brought them a second round of drinks. Her charismatic personality was like an overflowing flute of champagne; bubbly, intoxicating, and too much. Laura cringed at how loud the woman's voice could get but noted how entranced Saul looked. The old grouch was under Ellen's spell, as deeply and blindly as ever. Ellen downed another drink in one fluid motion before she cracked a joke that was, admittedly, good enough to make them all laugh.

"So, boys, tell me what's new in the Fleet," she gushed while flipping her white blond curls over her shoulder. For a moment, Laura felt an intense irritation stir in her. She listened to how easily they laughed at Ellen's jokes and watched how the other woman relaxed and enjoyed life. If Ellen had any cares, she didn't show it. On the other hand, Laura knew she herself was reserved and polite. All the times people called her the 'ice queen' flashed in her mind. She had a wild side too, and she could have fun while in public. After a moment's hesitation, she slipped a foot out of her shoe.

"Heard Adar's called a meeting of the top brass. It'll be happening soon according to the rumors," Saul relayed while grinning at his wife like she was the only woman in the world.

"Do you have any juicy bits to add?" Ellen prompted. "Secret government messages and meetings?" Her eyes danced with mischief, and her pink painted lips quirked into a conspiratorial smile.

"Not much of a secret if everyone knows," Laura shrugged, and the eye roll she received in response was dramatic and flashy. Ellen reached for her glass and took another sip while eyeing Laura.

"You need to relax Madame Secretary… it's just us!" Ellen teased while slipping an arm around Saul's shoulders and laughing with him. A snarky comment was on the tip of her tongue, but Laura reached for her glass of wine and took a sip instead. Meanwhile, her foot, hidden by the long white dining room tablecloth, caressed her husband's leg. She could play too but was more subtle.

Bill shifted in his chair looking between Ellen and Laura with a raised eyebrow. A foot slipped along his leg up and down. Then he met Laura's teasing gaze and relaxed.

Laura smiled, enjoying her game until her foot brushed against someone else's toes that also seemed to be targeted on Bill. Three people froze in their seats for a split second before Ellen laughed. Saul seemed oblivious.

The four of them continued socializing as the night wore on. Ellen continued living as if it was her last night on Leonis and didn't think about the hangover to come. Her laughter was infectious and her energy, contagious. However, as the night wore on, Laura and Bill's smiles became more forced as they thought about sneaking back to their room.

…

Caprica

Kara and Lee watched a magician performing card tricks atop a small box. The illusions delighted the crowd around him as they followed his hands dancing over the cards.

"Impressive," Lee remarked, tucking his hands in his pockets as he stood next to Kara. Liam had wandered off after Zak who'd gone in search of funnel cake. For a moment, Lee was alone with Kara, and his eyes flicked between her and the magic display. He noted the faded jeans, purple t-shirt, and ponytail that made her look casual and effortless. She was beautiful, he decided.

"Should see what I can do with a viper. I got some magical and retina defying moves like our friend here," she boasted with a saucy grin. Lee laughed and raised an eyebrow, wondering if she was as good as she said she was. He remembered an argument he'd overheard between her and his dad; from it, Lee knew she already had more than one disciplinary notice under her belt, and it didn't seem to be a new trend for her. Something kept her in the Fleet. Retina defying moves, perhaps.

"Did we ever fly together?" Lee asked. "Did I ever see these magical moves?" His voice was teasing and almost challenging. He grinned at Kara, waiting for a response. It was rare for him to ask questions about the other timeline, but he found himself wanting to know more.

"Yea. We flew together a lot," Kara replied, a thrill running through her when he asked about their past. She could never forget all the times they were in the skies together; two vipers that rolled and glided, wheeled and spun. Perfect sync. They'd always left their troubles behind on Galactica's decks because there was no place for them in the openness of space.

"I want you to know, I'm glad I got to know you in this timeline too," Lee admitted, bobbing up on his feet slightly as he spoke and trying not to blush.

"Lee…" Kara trailed off unsure what to say.

"There's history between us. I know there has to be," Lee pushed. The time they spent together left him happy and smiling, but there always seemed to be an elephant in the room when they were together. He just didn't know what caused it and wanted to do something about it.

"Good guess," Kara muttered.

"Maybe I'm magic, too. See, I've got this thing called a brain and some decent observation skills," he teased, their banter so easy that it rolled off his tongue without much thought.

"Witty, Lee. Real witty." Kara shook her head but found the corners of her lips twitching into a matching grin. They continued watching the magician perform a series of disappearing acts, and the crowd burst into applause around them at the impressive display. Lee sidestepped over to Kara and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"And for my next trick… you're worried I'll remember. How's that for a guess?" he murmured. Kara felt her heart race and her palms felt clammy. She licked her lips and tried to reply.

"Yes. No. I dunno." She groaned at her oratory skills. "We shared some good times and had… a bond. But I'm the master of bad decisions and you had a front row seat to a lot of them," Kara explained vaguely deciding to try to be honest but not too honest.

"Whether I remember or not, there's something between us now, Kara," Lee replied feeling brave. Kara's eyes snapped up to his and for a moment she was lost, until that nagging little voice in her pointed out her many failings.

"I'm not a good luck charm, Lee," she protested.

"Apparently you're magic, though," Lee replied smoothly, he took her hand in his and gave it a light squeeze. Kara found herself nibbling her lip nervously but didn't pull away. "I'd like to ask you…"

"Where's Liam?" Zak's voice broke the moment as he appeared behind Kara looking around. He was oblivious to how close Kara and Lee were standing, or the tense atmosphere between the two of them despite the lighthearted festival going on around them.

"We thought he went with you," Lee replied, looking around as well. Three sets of eyes now looked around, but the youngest Adama was nowhere in sight. All of them felt like an ice bucket had been dumped over them.

"You are combat ready viper jocks, expected to be able to see a Cylon raider against the black of space and keep your wingman safe, but you somehow lost track of Liam in less than five minutes!" Zak yelled, dressing down Kara and Lee as if they were first year cadets who were greener than the first leaves of spring. Somewhere in his mind, he knew it wasn't their fault, but his panic was causing him to lash out.

"Split up and look for him. Meet by the statue of Poseidon in an hour," Lee ordered, taking control of the situation. He spun around trying to guess which way his youngest brother might have gone.

They pushed through the crowds in three different directions. Their eyes darted around more wildly with each passing second looking for a flash of Liam's green sweatshirt. They listened hard for a reply as each of them began calling out Liam's name, getting louder by the minute.

….

Leonis

Laura chuckled as she thought back at the ridiculous night. The highlight of the night had to be watching Ellen shove Saul into the resort fountain after he was dumb enough to insult his intoxicated wife. It had, for all its interesting moments, been the break she and Bill needed. Now she was curled up at Bill's side, still catching her breath while running her fingers over his naked chest, drawing patterns and circles. With a contented sigh, she buried her nose in his neck, smelling sweat.

"Bill, do you ever wish I was more outgoing and fun?" Laura suddenly asked.

"And you think I'm the one to ask?" He was baffled by this unexpected question. He felt her shift against him and looked down to see her blushing face.

"Yes?" she replied hesitantly. After a moment he laughed at how absurd he found the question. "Really stoic right now, Admiral," she grumbled.

"Laura, you might not be as flamboyant as say… Ellen, but you are warm and caring and plenty of fun."

"Are you sure?" Laura asked.

"Laura, I love you the way you are. Stop overthinking. We're on vacation and supposed to be unwinding. Now… do you think you can indulge this reticent and quiet Old Man some more?" he asked.

….

Caprica

Kara darted through the crowds wildly searching for her adoptive young brother. The throngs pressed in around her, knocking into her and bouncing her around easily as she tried to maneuver around people. There had to be thousands present. Kara raced to the major attractions, any of which might have lured Liam to them. He wasn't there.

When she turned a corner, a bright red tent rose above the heads of the masses. Glowing lamps were strung around it. Kara could smell the incense wafting her way from the opened flap. It was eye-catching and inviting. She slipped over to it, shoving more than one person out of her way.

Bright rugs were unrolled on the floors, with pillows thrown everywhere. Several seers were seated on the floor with candles surrounding them. The smell of bitter chamalla tainted the air. Kara walked through the tent until she gasped in relief. A second after the relief hit, a wave of intense irritation crashed over her. A seer wrapped in bright silks had her hand wrapped around Liam's arm, and the boy looked about ready to cry.

"Liam!" Kara called, as she pushed her way through the other visitors to the oracles. His head darted up at his name and his eyes widened when he saw Kara.

"Kara!" he called, trying to wrench his arm free. The oracle made no move to release him. There on the pillows she remained, staring off into the distance wide-eyed.

"Hello, harbinger," the oracle rasped in a calm quiet voice that Kara could barely hear over the sound of the crowd outside when she reached them.

"Excuse me?" Kara snapped as she wrapped her arms around Liam in a hug before prying the seers hand off his arm. Liam turned and threw his arms around Kara, burying his face in her shirt. He was shaking. Kara glared at the oracle who still stared off in the distance.

"The Harbinger of Death and the son of the Dying Leader in our tent. It's an honor we do not deserve," the oracle said in a far-away voice.

"Frak off," Kara snapped, turning to pull Liam out of the tent. However, another oracle grabbed her. Her heartbeat pounding in her ears nearly drowned out the seer's words.

"You cannot escape your destiny, Kara Thrace. You and the two leaders have already begun walking down your path," the younger seers voice spoke in a gentle voice, almost apologetic sounding.

"The resolute protector takes the hand of victory, and together they will lead the people to the promised land. There is something coming to scorch and burn the lands, and night will stretch, dragging all into the darkness. The Harbinger of Death will lead them to their end, while the last son of Zeus helps lead the final fight," the senior most oracle chanted, at the farthest end of the tent, her voice rising over the others. Several members of the crowd had become quiet and were watching this spectacle. Unable to do much else, Kara pulled Liam along after her and raced out of the tent.

….….

Leonis

The phone call ended and Laura's hands clenched and unclenched as she paced back and forth. She felt like she was on fire, like she was a flame herself, blazing with fury. At the same time, tears were spilling down her cheeks. Bill watched, almost afraid to touch her, as if he would burn if he made contact.

They hadn't expected to get a phone call from the kids. When Kara's voice explained what happened, shaking slightly when she recounted the oracle tent debacle, they understood the reason for the call. Liam was put on the phone to talk to his parents, and they soothed him in a way only his mother and father could. They were thankful Kara had given a coherent account of the night, because Liam, in his upset state, was asking questions about dying leaders, death, prophesy, harbingers, and why the oracles seemed so focused on him and his family. It was still almost too much for Laura. Her rage nearly broke free when Liam told her about the women telling him that he had a destiny like the rest of them. They spoke for a while until Liam settled down, and Lee distracted him by offering to make a large banana split with tons of fudge. The second the phone clicked on the receiver, Laura broke.

"Whatever cosmic game we are caught in, my son can be left out of it!" she cried out in a potent mix of anger, panic, and fear. Bill carefully pulled her into his arms and felt her fists rest on his chest. "My baby, I just want my baby safe."

"I know. I know," he soothed, but his own mind didn't understand what to make of everything that had happened. The only thing he could do was try to calm Laura's fury. "We'll keep him safe," he assured her.

"I'm going to tell the President we've seen a human Cylon model we know. We'll keep Boomer herself a secret, though, because we're going to trust Sharon Valerii. We're going to trust her because she's offered to help, and I'm taking every advantage we can get." Bill nodded, understanding her reasoning. He and Laura were people who weighed the scales but also knew when to roll the hard six; Laura had just been pushed hard enough that she was willing to toss the dice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: some Kara and Lee! (I'm interested in opinions on that. Will they/Won't they) So, I tried to be fluffy in this chapter, and I did let them have some gratuitous fun. So, we'll meet with Adar next chapter. He's always good for some fun. This is becoming a little longer than I imagined. Whoops?
> 
> Thanks to the commenters! I really appreciate the love and support. Let me know what ya'll think of this latest installment!


	33. The Document

Sunset. Day's end. The sun faded away leaving behind orange streaks as tantalizing as juicy tangerines and red clouds as inviting as ripe pomegranates. The glowing colors bathed the room in warmth. Normally this office came across as cold and intimidating to its visitors, but that effect had long been washed out of Laura's system.

Budget documents, tinted from the sunset, lay scattered across the President's desk. Most of them now bore an elaborate signature signifying a meeting well spent. Laura bent over and gathered up the papers, sweeping them into a waiting folder.

Meanwhile, Adar stood off to the side pouring two glasses of sweet spring mead, one of Laura's favorite indulgences. He'd been shocked and pleased when his Secretary of Education agreed to stay and share a drink. There had been no overt suggestiveness from him during the whole meeting, and Adar thought her agreeing to stay was a fine reward for his good behavior.

Laura accepted the crystal glass he offered her. For a moment, the sweet rich smell of jasmine fought with Adar's overpowering cologne. He wore too much, and the heat of the office made it worse. Adar found himself tempted to let his eyes linger too long on her silk blouse and how it clung to her skin from the heat, but he moved away and relaxed in his chair. It was casual; ties and jackets were long abandoned, but he remained wary. Adar knew he'd crossed a line with Laura at the retirement party awhile ago, and he didn't want to lose his Secretary of Education.

Laura smiled as they both relaxed in their seats and raised glasses.

"To working hard," Adar toasted. They sipped on the pink liquid, both enjoying the sweet flavor. There was a heavy fruity peach undercurrent that Laura particularly enjoyed. "This is nice. We haven't spent time together in a while," he purred.

"There wasn't a need," Laura shrugged, hoping she didn't sound too cold.

"It's been busy at the office. Lots of new developments. But I always have time for you, Laura," Adar promised.

"That's nice. I'm almost always pretty busy, though," she laughed, softening the blow of her words. "But there is something I need to talk to you about." She took a drink of her mead. "The sketches of the humanoid Cylon models we gave you and you passed on to law enforcement… have you found any models?" she asked.

"Probing for classified information, Madame Secretary?" Adar asked in a teasing voice, looking at her over the rim of his glass.

"Classified even to me?"

"You're not military," he explained.

"But my husband is..." Laura began to counter but noticed the scowl that pulled at Adar's features. He audibly snorted at the mention of Adama.

"A man finishing his career as a disgraced Admiral on the rust bucket of the Fleet. No, he's not on the list of Colonial officers in my inner circle," he snapped, cutting her off. It was clear Richard Adar was going to be spiteful toward Bill Adama until the end of his days, and it didn't matter what Adama actually did.

"He's the most honorable man I've ever met, and I won't hear of talk otherwise," Laura snapped. They eyed each other for a moment, feeling the tension in the atmosphere.

"I don't have to like him, Laura. He doesn't…" Adar bit back his words. He doesn't deserve you, he thought, but left it unsaid. The words wouldn't do any good, and so Adar changed directions before his opinions got him in trouble. "You know, I could be persuaded to divulge some government secrets if you happen to have a compelling reason."

"I saw one. I saw a Cylon model I recognized and there was no mistaking who it was," Laura admitted her voice low and intense.

Richard nodded, swirling the liquid around in his glass. It was a compelling reason, and he thought back to all his secret meetings. There was much work being done behind the scenes. Sunlight no longer streamed into the office to catch and sparkle in the crystal. The sun was gone.

"You don't seem shocked or worried," Laura frowned, having expected a far more intense reaction. She'd anticipated something along the lines of panic. The stretching silence made Laura's blood run cold despite the heat in the room. This silence was too much like the sharp intake of breath someone takes while watching glass falling to the ground before shattering into a million pieces.

"I'm not worried," Richard admitted in a calm voice.

"Why not?" Her voice was low and dangerous–a warning. He would either tell her what was going on, or she'd find the information using whatever means she needed to.

"Remember those developments I mentioned?" he started to explain.

"What could possibly allow Cylons to be here with your knowledge?!" Laura hissed, looking at him wide-eyed.

"They're here to learn about humanity," he told her, draining his glass of the remaining mead but making no move to get a refill.

"And you're allowing that?" she growled angrily. Adar regarded his Secretary of Education for a moment before reaching to the secured desk drawer.

His desk was a rather remarkable piece of furniture. It was finished with the finest ebony wood but underneath was solid duranium which could withstand even a C4 blast - convenient should the President need to duck for cover. The desk seemed an appropriate metaphor; a President portrayed a fair facade for the world, but underneath was a harsh, hard interior one needed to survive the high office. Each drawer was thumbprint coded to prevent anyone but him accessing its contents. Adar opened one of these and withdrew a folder and handed it to her.

"Cylon models came to the Colonies to learn about humanity. As they learned about humanity, they had new goals," Richard said moving from around the desk to stand in front of Laura with the documents.

Laura set her glass down with a loud thud and took the proffered folder. Her heart hammered in her chest. With a flick she opened the folder and looked at the first page. She nearly screamed. Grabbing the side of her leather chair for stability, she stared at the words blazed in black ink that seemed to taunt her.

'Terms for Colonial–Cylon Peace Accords.'

It was a joke. It had to be a joke. It wasn't a joke. She read it again.

'Terms for Colonial–Cylon Peace Accords.' The words remained the same. It wasn't her imagination. It was real. The armistice, an almost forty-year agreement to cease hostilities, was becoming a true peace instead of just a truce.

Oh, my Gods, Laura thought, her mouth opening and closing as words failed her. Her throat felt like it was constricting, and she swallowed hard before looking back up at the President who remained impassive while watching her. She gaped at him, waiting for him to explain while trying to breathe normally.

"A friend of mine, Gaius Baltar, came to me. He introduced me to a friend he'd made. She called herself Six and was a Cylon. She matched the description your group gave of her. I'll admit – that was unnerving. But she explained that she'd been sent to talk. The Cylons want peace. We've been engaged in talks for weeks now," Adar explained. From the information they'd given him, he knew not to allow Baltar any contracts that would compromise the security of the Colonies. Keeping their systems secure was one of the best ways to protect his people. No backdoor coding. No firewall cracks. Laura knew all of this, but still looked horrified.

"You trust them!?" she exclaimed, knowing her emotions showed on her face. Memories accelerated in Laura's head, crashing into each other. She couldn't slow them down and could only make one coherent thought; this had to be a trick. It was a cover for the Cylons true agenda.

"I was shocked and confused too, and I understand why you're hesitant to trust them," Adar admitted, and Laura nearly scoffed at him. What did he know of apocalypses and reasons to distrust the Cylons? He stood in a gleaming office of crisp blacks and whites. Every surface was clean and polished to reflect the splendor of the Colonies. It bore no sign of dirt and desperation. He was surrounded by the smell of jasmine and cologne, and not the reeking scent of anxiety and fear.

Each breath Laura took came out in gasps faster and faster while the edges of her vision became fuzzy. Her heart hammered in her chest while the room around her spun. Nausea erupted in her stomach. She thought she heard someone calling her name. Someone was talking. Explaining. Peace with the Cylons? Gauis Baltar? Peace? Six? Boomer? Peace with the Cylons? Cylons on the Colonies? Peace with the Cylons?

For a moment she felt herself falling, but two strong arms held her in place. Her body trembled so violently that the arms had to hold her tightly to keep her still, but Laura couldn't feel her limbs anymore. She noticed the document had dropped from her hands, and she looked to where it was scattered on the floor. She was so dizzy.

A voice was begging her to breathe, to calm down. She tried to calm the hurricane inside of her. Her ribs felt as if they were bound as she strained to breathe. Someone called her name over and over again. Her head was being cradled so Adar could look into her eyes.

With what strength she could, Laura shoved him away. She stumbled to her feet even though the floor felt like it was melting away underneath her. She slapped away Adar's hands as they reached out to help steady her. A few unsteady steps took her away from Adar and the Peace Treaty documents. Suddenly, she was running toward the door, needing to escape the madness. Adar called after her as she barreled out of his office and dashed through the capitol building as if Charon himself were chasing her.

…

Bill watched Saul Tigh exit his quarters after sharing a few drinks. The Colonel seemed particularly keen on joining the triad match happening in the pilots' rec room, boasting about how he was going to take Starbuck down a peg or several. Bill refrained from asking how often Saul succeeded at defeating Kara in cards, deciding not to be the one who ruined Saul's hopes. Besides, the rest of the pilots viewed Kara Thrace as a rook fresh from the academy and as one of the newer pilots assigned to Galactica. Giving Saul a good thrashing at triad would help her status among the crew, and the crew seeing their XO soundly defeated would help improve morale.

Scattered across Adama's desk were bits of a naval ship; bulkhead frames and a keel pieces cut from wood were all laid out like a puzzle waiting to be put together. He reached out to grab the first pieces to slide them in place, but his comm rang. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Off-duty time was never sacred to the military. He picked up the phone.

"Adama," he barked.

"Bill! Is the line secure?" A voice broke out from the receiver and Bill bolted upright. Alarm pulled him out of his peace at the tense voice asking for a secure line. He heard faint pants of breath through the faint static.

"Laura," Bill flipped a switch on his comm unit preventing third parties from dropping in on their call, while concern prickled in the pit of his stomach. "It's secure. What's going on?"

"It's… it's Adar and Cylons. Caprica Six. And Gaius frakkin' Baltar and… I'm not making sense! There was a… a treaty and…" Bill listened to Laura spluttering, her usual coolheaded calm jarringly absent. A knot in his stomach formed, and it took a moment for him to speak.

"Laura, honey, you need to slow down and breathe," Bill ordered. His brow furrowed as he listened to his wife. He heard her rapid and sharp intakes of breath. "Breathe!" She took one long deep breath and told him everything that happened in Adar's office in a rush.

"What?!" Adama exclaimed. For a moment neither spoke. His antique clock ticked like a timer on a bomb, not slowing down. Time dragged forward even as his heart hammered in his chest and the weight of the future sat heavily on his shoulders. There was a small tremor in his hands at the notion of this peace with the Cylons, and it didn't embarrass him to admit it. He waited, hoping that Laura had more of an explanation, a reason for this peace.

There was a peace once made with Cylons in the other time, but it had been forged under the most extraordinary circumstances. This offer reeked of deception and trickery. Could Adar not guess that peace talks were the best cover for an attack?

"How is this being considered?" Bill asked.

"Because it's the solution to all our problems. The promise of peace," Laura sighed, and Bill could hear the exhaustion in her voice. "I'm not going to lie, Bill, I'm a bit freaked out right now."

"Me, too, honey," he replied, wanting to wrap her in his arms and feel her warmth and know that she was safe and cared for.

"Are we just paranoid? We made peace with them once. What if this peace could be a reality?" Laura asked. Bill mulled over her question while fiddling with the pieces of his ship. The ships he built had to be carefully assembled so that everything was level and flat otherwise the finished project wouldn't be worth the effort. He liked puzzles, he liked watching the pieces come together, but this puzzle had too many missing and disjointed pieces.

"Well, we know the Cylons are experts at manipulation. We know that humanity can't survive on hope alone. Adar is a moron if he's pinning humanity's existence on what he wants to be true. There's no guarantee the Cylons will hold up any bargain," Adama reasoned. Hope couldn't save a sinking ship after all.

"Gaius Baltar. Six. Decommissioning Galactica. It's all happened before and it's happening again. No matter what we do," Laura groaned. "At least he's built up the military and de-networked most of the Fleet. There's no breach in the Defense Mainframe. Even if they attack, we have given the Colonies a fighting chance," she sighed.

"We're prepared," Adama assured her. He hated the idea of the people being lulled into a false sense of security. That was beyond his control. "There's nothing we can do anymore. I've done what I can in the Fleet. You've done what you can. Cottle, Kara, and Saul have done their parts. There are backup plans, and now the cards will fall." Bill accepted this while running a hand over the parts of his ship, spacing them out. The pieces would come together as best they could.

"I want it to be real. I do. Could you imagine peace? We could retire in a few years. Find a quiet place to live. Raise Liam. Our sons could have lives on the Colonies instead of trying to fight for survival across space," Laura sighed, it was a tantalizing vision.

"Knowing my family is safe shouldn't feel like such a pipe dream," he growled. "But you taught me at some point we have to accept what life has dealt us and find the good in it."

"You're the good in my life. I'm glad the call as able to get though. I needed to hear your voice," she whispered, far calmer. Marriage was a ship against which the savage winds might beat, Cylons might attack, and the sun may set but they could stand on the decks together and weather any storm. They spoke almost through the night, until exhaustion finally forced them to hang up and go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the big plot twist. Cylons offering peace! Please take a moment to comment! I really really really love the feedback, comments, and theories. It’s helpful and motivating!


	34. Fire

Laura didn't want to dream. What she saw couldn't be considered a nightmare; her blood didn't run cold, and there was no urge to flee. Her dreamscape surroundings might not qualify as a chamber full of horrors, but Laura didn't welcome what she saw at night. Her unconscious mind might provide insight into this timeline but not the distance the Adama family craved from prophecy and destiny.

The smell of chalk surrounded her. A layer of powdered white residue coated her hands. For a moment, she remembered the days of being Ms. Roslin and driving her passion through a piece of chalk and onto the blackboard of her classroom while teaching her students the wonders of the worlds. Now the blackboard was blank save for a list of names:

Zeus - Bill Adama

Hera - Laura Roslin

Poseidon - Saul Tigh

Demeter -

Ares - Jack Cottle

Aphrodite -

Hephaestus -

Athena - Sharon "Boomer" Valerii

Artemis -

Apollo - Kara "Starbuck" Thrace

Hermès -

Dionysus -

Seeing it all spelled out made something snap inside Laura. Rage boiled in her stomach and the molten anger pulsed through her veins. She marched away from the blackboard, sat behind her desk, and glared at the names. The rage wasn't tempered by the time Elosha walked through the door to her old classroom.

"No one new remembers. There won't be any new names for a while, Laura," Elosha informed her when she noted Laura looking at the list.

"The Gods are sick if they want to drag a child into this," Laura growled.

"He won't be a child forever, Laura," Elosha pronounced as if it were sage wisdom. Laura stood slowly up from behind her desk and planted her hands firmly on the wooden surface.

"My son is not going to be dragged into whatever mess this is," she hissed while gesturing angrily toward the board.

"We choose our destiny as much as our destiny chooses us."

"The oracles in the tent called my son the child of the 'dying leader.' He came home asking if I was dying! Do you know what that was like? I've had surgery. I go to the doctor. I am not, absolutely not, going to be the dying leader again. I won't. I don't choose that!" Laura exclaimed and pushed away from her desk to face away from the classroom. Her breathing was ragged from her anger. She'd devoted her life to her people. She'd devoted her death to an ancient prophecy and a mythical planet. They'd mattered a great deal to her once, and she knew that her people still mattered a great deal to her still. She cared for others; she didn't become Secretary of Education because it was fun, but because she was driven to make a difference. But she loved her family, and for anyone to ask so much of her again?

"You were the dying leader. You can't change that."

"I won't choose it again. I won't, I can't do that to Bill. Ever. He doesn't deserve to watch me die again. He..." Laura had to swallow as her throat constricted against the emotion she felt. Raw love for a man who meant more than anything ripped through her, catching her breath. "I won't be the cause of his suffering. He's a good man."

"Love. I remember telling you to just love somebody. You chose your partner well when deciding with whom to walk the paths of destiny," Elosha assured, walking toward the desk. Her warm voice reached out for Laura as if offering an embrace.

"Are you saying it's my fault Bill and Liam are caught up in this?" Laura whirled around to face Elosha, a horrified expression on her face.

"Choices have consequences."

"I know that, but this? This is…" Laura shook her head and crossed her arms. She could not, would not, consider a life where her husband was forced to watch her suffer a wasting disease that dragged her from him. Just as horrifying to Laura was the threat of Liam, of any of their children, being snagged in prophecy's cruel clutch.

Despite Laura's anger, Elosha stayed calm and serene. Her concern was genuine, and she gave her old friend a soft smile as she stepped toward her. The dim light of the classroom caught the gold embroidery on her robes and the little beads sparkled. She made the perfect image of Priestess of the Lords of Kobol. She didn't wither under Laura's fierce gaze, but met it with a soft look.

"I still remember administering the oath of office to you. And I could see that you were so terribly frightened. I found comfort in that. Because you were frightened and you were moving forward, just as you are now. You might be worried and angry now, but I see the same hope in your eyes again. Hope and fire..."

"Stop!"

Laura's eyes sprang open and her heart pounded. The endless darkness of her room pressed in around her, and she could smell sweet and felt how her nightgown clung to her. The conversation with Elosha replayed itself in her mind until morning light crept into their bedroom.

...

A coffin gleamed in the early morning light which streamed through the trees which surrounded the outskirts of the graveyard. There were no special adornments on the box. No gilded handles. No carvings. There was only a polished sheen on the wood. These houses for the dead were crafted to soothe the living; the departed were no longer around to care.

Socrata Thrace was dead, and Kara would not wrap her mother in something of beauty that conveyed a different reality than what had been. Socrata had been a good officer, and the simple casket surrounded by an honor guard denoted that. But she hadn't been a good mother, her surviving daughter wouldn't pretend otherwise. This is all she would offer her.

"Mourn the passing of a life well lived. Celebrate the times you smiled together…" Kara snorted as the military chaplain's homily droned on for the two people in attendance. A comforting arm wrapped around her.

"I don't know if she ever smiled," Kara muttered leaning against the other woman. "Why does her death hurt?" she asked looking over at Laura with furrowed brows. To Kara, the ache in her heart made no sense. She had a father's love, and she had a mother's love from the woman beside her. And yet part of her had always wanted her birth mother's love, for her to hear that the woman who bore her held affection for her instead of just the desire to see her daughter turned into a fierce warrior.

"She was your mother, and loss is loss. You forgave her in the end and didn't wish ill on her," Laura offered.

"If I forgave her, shouldn't I have visited her more in this timeline? Reached out?"

"No. Forgiveness does not mean you had to allow her in your life. Forgiveness does not mean a relationship is fixed. She hurt you, Kara, but you chose to set yourself free of that, not to forget it," Laura replied, thinking of Baltar and how she'd forgiven him and even tended to his injuries on the Basestar, but she never trusted him. She would never trust him. Whatever this peace with the Cylons was, she didn't trust it.

The funeral dragged on. Briefly, Kara wondered what her own funeral on Galactica had looked like, but that was too morbid, even for her. Kara declined saying a few words in memory of her mother. Instead, she leaned over and whispered a few words to Laura.

"I think she might have loved me. I found stuff she kept from my childhood. Awards. Art projects…" Kara sighed. "Too bad my old art doesn't go well with scars and broken bones."

"And while you might forgive her, and even miss her, it does not erase that past."

"Thank you for being here," Kara murmured, before snapping off a salute with the honor guard. A few paces away a rifleman raised his gun and fired off a final tribute to the dead Colonial warrior. It echoed around the graves and trees, a final goodbye.

They walked away from the graveyard in silence.

"Coffee," Kara decided and she motioned for Laura to follow her. The two women set off into Delphi City, scattering a flock of pigeons as they moved down the sidewalk. Kara filled Laura in on antics from Galactica: sergeant Hadrian's boots being frozen right before she went on duty, switching the name tags on Gaeta's and Dualla's lockers, and someone switching Tigh's ambrosia with apple juice. Laughter burst out of Laura when Kara insisted she was responsible for exactly one of the incidents and no more. As Kara spoke, they passed a run-down pawn shop, a liquor store, and a tiny market. Standing in front of a shady looking cafe, Kara proclaimed they'd arrived at the best coffee shop on the Colonies.

"So, I hear Adar's trying to get us all killed again," Kara began plopping down in a seat on the other side of the table from where Laura was perched, two steaming cups of coffee between them. The buzz of other patrons droning on meant that Kara's words were easily lost in the crowd, although no one seemed to care who they were.

"And Baltar's handing him the gun," Laura added and rolled her eyes. She brought her mug to her lips and took a tentative sip of coffee. It was amazing, and her expression must have revealed her surprise.

"Don't judge a book by its cover," Kara tittered, nodding to their dingy surroundings and enjoying the brief role reversal.

"Yes, ma'am," Laura huffed, but there was a spark of amusement in her eyes. Kara nearly choked on her coffee at the older woman's response after inhaling the bitter beverage when she laughed.

With a deep breath, Kara grew serious. She hadn't just been sent back to Caprica to attend her mother's funeral. The Admiral had sent his officer back to see what Sharon had to say about the Cylon's offer. Her hand cradled her mug as she recalled seeing Boomer again and the storm of emotions that had wrought. Anger. Hope. Confusion. Hate. Friendship. Sympathy. If there was a correct emotion to feel, Kara couldn't pick which was the one.

"I meet Boomer. She's more like the nervous rook I remember meeting than whatever Cavil helped turn her into. Desperate to do the right thing. Hoping we can accept her. The kid I knew and cared about. She says she doesn't know if the Cylon's offer of peace is genuine," Kara said, staring down into the black liquid and swirling it around while she spoke.

"So no new insight there. Do you think we should trust her?"

"What do things like trust, forgiveness, friendship, and family even mean when we've experienced a whole lifetime that's now gone? I remember a Sharon Valerii who never would have shot the Old Man. I trusted her. She was family."

"Bill thinks she missed deliberately," Laura admitted.

"She was a good shot. Could have put a bullet in his head, especially at point blank range. I always thought it was a miracle he survived, but if she was fighting her programming…" Kara mused and drank some of her coffee while thinking it over. Sharon had destroyed their water supply and then found water. She and Racetrack had obliterated an entire Cylon baseship. The Cylon had even tried to commit suicide, and that final fact resonated with Kara - the desire to protect family, even if the price was your life. Kara looked up at Laura.

"I fly by instinct, you know? It's not memorized mechanics and flight patterns to me. I feel what I need to do in my gut, and I do it. That feeling I get is telling me to trust Boomer but not this peace," Kara explained. They sat in silence for a moment while the noise of other conversations continued.

"Then we're all on the same page," Laura replied, finishing the last bit of her coffee.

"We learned that peace can exist. But, this doesn't feel earned, and it doesn't feel genuine. Boomer feels genuine. She's reached out."

For a brief moment, Laura thought back to her dreams. Elosha said Boomer's name appearing next to the goddess of wisdom. Wisdom was earned, and Boomer had earned hers.

"We will never forget, but with people like Boomer we can try to move past what happened."

"Like you and the Old Man did after Kobol?"

"And like you and I have."

…..

Laura smiled as she watched Bill place another log into their fireplace and begin to light it. It was easily the feature he loved best about their house, and many good memories had been made on the soft rug in front of it. She chuckled when she remembered how adamant he'd been about getting said rug; it was one of the first things he'd added to her house in order to make it their home. It had confused her at first. At first. After that, she had trusted him with whatever he wanted in the house.

His favorite naval ship decorated the mantel along with pictures of their family. A few feet away stood a leather recliner - 'his' spot. He'd spent hours reading there while a fire blazed beside him. Liam used to climb up on his father's lap often dragging a children's book with him. They would relax into the soft leather together while Bill's voice spun fairytales and myths into life. Happy memories.

Once finished with his task, Bill joined his wife where she sat on the rug. He carefully kept one hand out of sight and behind his back. His other hand reached up to caress her neck before pulling her forward for a lazily kiss.

"Are you trying to distract me from whatever it is you're hiding?" Laura hummed with a teasing note in her voice. Bill chuckled and pulled out a bottle.

"Caught. Picked this up on Aerelon," Bill explained handing it to her.

"Bill, this is Baconian wine! What's the occasion?"

"We're celebrating. I thought about saving it for a better time after you told me about the peace, but why put off embracing the good things in life?" He asked, taking the bottle back. He began peeling the foil away from the neck and cork while Laura looked at him curiously.

"You have a point, but what are we celebrating?" Laura asked, tilting her head to the side. She watched as he reached over to his chair and plucked a folder off it along with his glasses, a necessary item for both of them once again. Out of the folder her pulled a paper, and handed it to her. It was a report on the state of education in the Twelve Colonies.

"End of another academic year for you and according to that," Bill said gesturing at the report, "it says the schools have never been better. Quote, 'the Secretary of Education should be praised for her ideas and innovation.' That, Laura, is worthy of celebration," he explained. Laura felt a rush of warm affection pulse through her, as if her soul was humming in contentment. This is what the end of the world gave her, and there were still times she couldn't believe how well they fit together

"Bill… this is really sweet of you," Laura breathed.

She remembered a time when he wasn't impressed with her at all. He had seen her as a simple schoolteacher who wouldn't be able to rise to the demands of the Presidency. With misty eyes, she watched him uncork the wine, pull two glasses out, and fill them. One was passed to Laura, but the other he held up.

"To my best friend and wife. The woman who helps create a better future," he toasted proudly.

"Thank you," Laura sniffed, but she couldn't take a sip of wine before she was fighting back the fresh wave of tears prickling in her eyes. At Bill's concerned gaze she reached out and took his hand. "I never thought I'd find this, find someone who truly cared about me and cared enough to notice my work and here you are making me feel loved and appreciated. You're a good husband, Bill."

Bill felt his own heart constrict at her words. She meant it but hearing what he made her feel always brought a reassuring thrill to him. It had been one of his greatest fears in this new life; to lose Laura if he failed her as a partner. She was a strong person but had a vulnerable side that wanted to feel safe and loved, and here sat assuring him that he'd done well and given her what she needed. There was a pressure in his hand, and he realized she was squeezing it while giving him a happy smile. His words finally returned to him.

"You know, one of my marines knew you, knew of you. He told me about a program you'd created that helped keep in school. Wouldn't have been in the Fleet without it," he told her after they clinked their wine glasses and took a few heavenly sips.

"Private Samson. I remember him. He's one of the men that helped break me out of Galactica's brig," Laura replied with a smirk and remembered the two men who helped lead her from the brig to the hangar deck during her Galactica jailbreak. She watched Bill's eyes narrow calculatingly.

"Wanna tell me who else was involved?"

"What if I need to escape again?" Laura asked in a deadpanned tone and sipped her wine while trying to smother her grin. She couldn't stop the giggle when she heard his growl.

"Then I'll help you," he replied flatly. Laura laughed.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," she admitted with a grin before positioning herself so she leaned back against his chest in front of the fire. Warmth surrounded her from the blaze and from the man behind her. They sipped at their wine and enjoyed the dancing flames while Laura told him about the various work she'd been doing that had earned her such high praise in the report.

While he listened and asked questions, Bill's hands traced up her arm, across her belly, and under her breasts in loving caresses. He couldn't see them, but under his fingers were faded scars from her surgery years ago. Little silver lines that proved she was fighting to stay with him. Bill traced where they were with his finger, grateful for the long future they symbolized. Nothing could take away the memory of the pain they'd endured, pain the Cylons had caused. Watching Laura fade had ripped out his heart. A slow death for a strong woman. It was torture to both endure and witness; the revelation that she'd never return to Colonial One, realizing they'd never sleep side by side again, looking down and seeing a hospital gown and knowing it was the last outfit Laura would wear, and the constant ache at leaving half a soul behind when death claimed her. The past few weeks had brought much of that pain to the forefront of their minds along with their fear of the apocalypse.

Laura tilted her head to look back into his blue eyes after he'd grown quiet. She felt where his fingers lingered and placed her hand over his. Thoughts of another life slipped into her mind.

"I had a dream, and it made me think about taking the oath of office that first time. I remember being terrified. I could barely say the words. When I first woke up with my memories, I had a horrible feeling that the attacks would happen again. I'd end up there again. I'm getting that feeling back; its like I know they'll happen and it scares me." She laced her fingers with his over the silver scars. "Even if they happen. I'm staying with you as long as I can." She promised.

"Promise?" He asked, and she noted the shine his eyes had taken.

"I promise."

"Tell me about the university visits you've been doing?" he asked, bringing them back to their celebration

"Ok," she replied with a smile.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can fluff. *Folds arms*


	35. The Speech

"For thirty-nine years, the guns have been silent. A great tragedy was ended, but neither side knew victory."

President Adar swallowed. This was the most important speech he'd delivered in his entire career. He stood on the raised dais, overlooking the crowd with his hands lightly resting on the podium. His speech, vetted by too many people to count, lay beneath his sweaty palms.

The President of the Twelve Colonies stood tall and proud like a lion addressing his pride. Cameras pointed at him and broadcast his words and image to each of the twelve planets. His voice carried the gravitas of this moment over the gathered crowd in the banquet hall of the presidential manor and then further out to each one of his citizens.

His cabinet held their breath and watched him, the anticipation in the air around them almost tangible. Richard Adar's heart hammered in his chest as he looked over them. He glanced at his side where his longtime best friend, Gaius Baltar, stood with his attractive date. The woman, dressed in red, happened to be the representative of the Cylon people. Then he caught Laura's eyes in the crowd, and his blood ran cold. But the President pushed the foreboding feeling to the side, raised his chin, and continued speaking.

"Our worlds have known peace."

If life had a melody, a proper sequence of notes meant to be played out in a musical way, then someone had shredded the music and let a monkey conduct the chorus. Laura's mind searched for order and rhythm in this reality; she knew she was awake and not living in one of her nightmares. The ground was too solid under her feet, and the pungent odor of too many people crammed in a banquet hall accosted her nose. This was real. The President was announcing peace with the Cylons. But was the Holocaust avoided?

The President had personally introduced Laura to Gaius Baltar earlier in the evening. Every nerve in Laura's body tingled while the noise around her faded into a dull buzz when Baltar met her gaze and extended his hand. Laura wanted to be done with anger, but for a moment she smiled and remembered yelling for Colonel Tigh to throw the man out an airlock. She had to set those memories to the side in order to grasp Baltar's hand and pray he wasn't leading humanity down a dark hole again. There was no election she could steal.

He spoke to her, or at her, while she studied him. This Baltar was like the one she remembered but seeing him now forced her to admit he'd come a long way in their journey. First, he didn't seem touched in the head at all, and he wore a sneer that told the world he thought himself superior. He'd always been a man who reveled in success, but this Baltar had no trace of fear at all. He'd also always been a man who didn't overlook any erotic opportunity, and his gaze had drifted over Laura's body as if probing her sensuality and willingness; she'd quickly shifted away from him and politely excused herself. Laura would gladly live several lifetimes without ever willingly seeing the shifty scientist and womanizing playboy again.

Together, Laura and Bill had tried to avert the attacks. Years ago, they'd told Richard Adar everything he needed to know to avoid how the Cylons almost wiped out humanity in their time. To his credit, the President had followed through with almost all their suggestions and had used their information well. Ever pragmatic, they'd prepared for if the attacks weren't averted. Supplies. Ammunition. Stockpiles. Secret shipments. Still, this peace was a whole new chapter in their story, and neither knew what to make of it.

As Richard addressed his people Laura stood over to the side watching the circus. Her hand was nestled in the crook of her husband's arm. She hadn't realized she was clutching him as hard as she'd been until Bill's other hand came up to cover her grip. I'm here, he said without words. She felt a rush of love for her strong, stoic, calm warrior in that moment. Her partner.

"We remember the dead, voices forever silenced while fighting among the stars. We'll never forget the courageous soldiers who took up the challenge of the future which they salvaged from the brink of disaster."

There was power at being the calm in the center of the storm, and he was proud of how controlled he and his wife both appeared. People often assumed their minds didn't acknowledge fear, anger, or even despair. Instead of fighting what his mind felt, Bill Adama learned long ago to accept those emotions and put them in their proper place. Acknowledge their existence but refuse to be controlled.

Rage. Fear. Anger. Despair. He'd deeply felt each of those emotions throughout his life. The memories couldn't be forgotten. Not the Centurions who'd boarded Battlestars and left a trail of fear, blood, and bodies in their wake. Not the raiders he'd shot down in his viper while listening with rage as his brothers- and sisters-in-arms cried out over the comm as their ships exploded. Not the people he couldn't free from the Hybrid's ship who were then taken and experimented on after he was forced to flee in despair. The cost of war. What would this offer of peace cost them?

Peace. Gods, he wanted peace. He was tired of fighting. But he couldn't forget the future he'd seen, the future he'd tried to avoid. It trapped them in its claws and promised its inevitability no matter how much he didn't want that timeline to happen again. The timeline where he'd seen the Twelve Colonies fall. The timeline where the Cylons had taken over New Caprica. The timeline where his own wife had been tortured and her cancer had come back.

Laura stood next to him with a polite politician's smile on her face. Strong and serene, although he noted her grip on his arm, the one concession to how she felt internally. She must have noticed the far-away look in his eyes that betrayed how he felt because she linked her fingers in his and gave them a light squeeze. I'm here too, she said wordlessly. His partner.

"A new era upon us. An era to be marked by a newfound security and prosperity."

Zak had been following Dr. Cottle around sickbay like a good bright-eyed and bushy-tailed intern should. They'd stopped moving to listen when the radio began broadcasting the President's speech. Huffing at the pretty polished words that sounded so right which poured from their leader's mouth, Cottle pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

Cottle looked over his sickbay as he took a long drag of his drug of choice. There had been too many patients he'd lost in these very beds while covered in their blood and doing his damnedest to save each and every one of them. This peace teased him. It was a combat medic's dream—to hear that the bullets would stop raining.

Kids. To him the soldiers he'd patched up had all practically been children. Young soldiers dead before their time. Their ends in no way fair or right, each patient he lost weighed on his heart. No wonder he was grumpy and calloused; what does so much death and suffering do to a caring heart? Professional distance, his old mentor had warned him. So Dr. Cottle pretended to be a bastard, and it kept the children at arm's length. Most of them. Some of them. Not all of them. Laura. Sharon. Caprica. Felix. Cally.

Zak looked at him with big blue eyes and a tilted head. The kid had his father's heart, that much was clear. Adama just had to pseudo adopt every stray that came across his path, and Zak had the same care and compassion in him. Cottle sighed. His protege should live in peace. How could the sweet boy even imagine the future his parents had lived through and what a sickbay at war could be like?

"Peace is one of our greatest goals. What we search and strive for."

Saul knew for what he strove toward: to be a good man. There were still 2,000 years he'd lived as a Cylon that he couldn't remember, and he wondered if there ever was a moment during all those years where he looked in the mirror and saw a good man. A good Cylon. Whatever he was. Maybe that's why he'd become best friends with Bill Adama. In his friend he saw someone he could respect, who had integrity. Someone he wanted to be like. For his part, Bill had always pushed him to be a better man while accepting the less savory aspects of who Saul was.

Looking at the glass of water in his hand, Saul knew he'd reached a point where he could call himself a good man and believe it himself. It had been a rough road, and he still wasn't a nice man. But there was a code of honor he'd found in himself and he'd kept it in this timeline. Protect his people. Love his woman. Support his friend.

Ellen stirred and looked over at him with contented eyes. He'd snuck her aboard Galactica partially for the thrill of it, and partially because he wanted to see her. Ellen loved an adventure and had been delighted at his attention. He grinned at her. Neither of them were perfect, but he didn't love her because she didn't have flaws. They'd always enjoyed hurting each other far too much. Mocking each other had almost been a hobby. In this timeline, they'd tempered that side of themselves, and Saul made sure Ellen knew how much she meant to him.

Peace. Peace and retirement. They'd talked about taking a whirlwind tour of the Colonies after Saul retired. He'd promised to lavish attention on his beloved wife at each stop they made. It would be just the two of them just being together. Ellen loved the sound of that.

"We have a chance for peace and if we do not take it, Armageddon will be at our door."

The other pilots teased Lee about how often he listened to political broadcasts. But between having a stepmother in the highest echelons of the government and his own inclinations toward a political career once he finished his time in the service, he found himself tuning in more and more.

The radio crackled with static from the shelf in his bunk but he could make out the President's voice speaking. Armageddon. His parents had described snippets of the Armageddon they lived through. There were gaps in their stories, things they wouldn't tell him. Kara filled in some of those gaps.

He'd gotten her to go out with him on a date. Finally. His charm and persuasion had earned him dinner and a trip to the movies. While walking back to Kara's apartment, the two of them talked about her memories. Whatever Kara's past, it was part of her, and he wanted to accept it. Then, like an idiot, he'd ruined the mood and asked her what it had been like. Let it be known that conversing about the apocalypse was not the key to having a successful first date. Although, it had been successful.

Kara explained that the air had reeked with the smell of smoke and rotting things. The sky had gone hazy, she described, and the sun looked blood red through the atmosphere. Worst of all was how quiet Caprica had become, she told him. There were no birds that sang and no squirrels scampering across the ground in the Colony she'd seen. Lee offered to go find a squirrel to cheer her up, and she'd looked at him like he was an idiot, but laughed.

Taking a break from the letter he was writing to Kara (which he made sure did not mention Armageddon), he fingered the rank insignia at his collar. They were his father's old pins from the Cylon War. His dad sometimes accidentally referred to it as the First Cylon War, and that always struck Lee as wrong. "First" implied a second war following. He didn't want war. He wanted to leave the service when his time was done. He wanted to go to law school or join his stepmother in the world of politics. Kara's future sounded awful. Peace sounded good.

"I stand here today to announce the beginning of peace talks toward a permanent peace treaty with the Cylons. Armistice will give way to peace and friendship."

Liam fidgeted on the couch and watched the broadcast. He knew his parents were in the glittering crowd, and he looked around and tried to spot them on the television. His own little game. Then he heard the President mention the word Cylon and his game stopped while he stared at the man for whom he knew his father had a particular dislike.

He'd heard the word Cylon used around the house. After all, his father was a hero of the Cylon War and an Admiral who commanded the last Battlestar from that era. His mother was overseeing the creation of a museum about the Cylon War. It was part of their history and taught in school. He'd seen pictures of Centurions in his textbooks. If they stayed in pictures and in memory or history, that would be one thing, but Liam remembered.

The sound of mechanical men and metal clanking through the house years ago still gave him nightmares. He recalled his mother hiding him from the intruders but screaming when she'd been taken. Later, the news had claimed it was Ha'la'tha terrorists who'd kidnapped his mom. At school, Liam had stared at the pictures of Cylons in his textbook. Mechanical whirling and metal clanking. They'd taken his mother. Did this peace mean they'd all be safe now?

"Today I report to you that next year on Armistice Day, forty years after the Great War, both sides will meet and sign a treaty of peace."

Starbuck and Boomer sat in the pilot rec room playing cards with their fellow flyers. Drinks. Cards. Stogies. Each sip of alcohol seemed like a better and better idea to the pilots. The smell of booze and cigarettes hung in the air, but their jokes got funnier. Or they laughed more. There were a few viper jocks staggering around teasing the raptor pilots. Boomer rolled her eyes and gave Starbuck a look that said, don't even start.

The boisterous room fell silent when the President began his speech. It seemed that even the Fleet's hot-headed pilots knew what a profound moment this was.

As the words made their way into tipsy minds, the two misfits looked at each other, one kindred spirit reaching it to another. A Cylon and a human bonding over a game of triad like they had so many years ago. This time there was a recognition between the two that remained powerful yet unvoiced; whatever we might think, Adama believes in us and we won't let him down.

Boomer learned they'd given sketches of the Cylon models to President Adar. No wonder the Cylon models had trouble getting into important positions. Gina couldn't get her job updating defense mainframes. Doral remained a minor reporter. Simon couldn't even work for the C-Bucks. But her? She'd gotten a position in the Fleet. After some thought it dawned on her. A sketch of her hadn't been submitted. They'd protected the future Athena. Starbuck called her a fool for thinking they'd only thought of Sharon Agathon and not her too. Boomer was a lost sheep, and Adama wanted her to come back to the fold, too. She'd cried and made a promise.

Whatever would come to pass, Boomer and Starbuck would care for this family and protect them. They'd lived through hell with these comrades-in-arms and seen many of them wounded and some of them dead. Boomer took a drink to numb the feeling in her heart as she listened to the promise of peace. She lived with this strange pain everyday: the knowledge that she could have helped her comrades, but her choices had gotten many of them killed. This new timeline and this potential peace would never allow her to forget that. War, peace, victory, defeat: it all carried a price tag.

"Our strength and courage have brought us to this point and now comes the time to make our future."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based vaguely on General McArthur’s speech at the end of WWII. I wanted to do a no dialogue introspective bit as we get close to the decommissioning. 
> 
> I know it’s getting long. Hope ya’ll still enjoy.


	36. Waiting is Hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: The next chapter is here! Comment away! I always love hearing what you think!
> 
> Now that the creative writing muscles don't feel so rusty, I looked back at this piece. The previous chapters got a bit of spit and polish. The plot is unchanged, but if you are a re-reader (like me) it's a much better work now. (Example; their actions to prevent the attacks are more pronounced. Also, my cat and I accidentally deleted chapter 2 over on ff.net instead of downloading it, so I added combined the deleted chapter into chapter 1 and did the same here). 
> 
> I mostly just wanted to be happy with what I wrote.
> 
> Special kudos to JustACrazy-Man who inspired part of this chapter.

Twelve Months Before The Human–Cylon Peace Accords

Kenneth Hector, Secretary of Defense for the Twelve Colonies, walked along the promenade of the Scorpion Fleet Shipyards. Crowds were drawn to the shops and stations facilities housed in the station, but everyone knew to stay away from Secretary Hector who in turn had very little interest in the people. His gaze was drawn to the tall viewports spaced evenly through the promenade which offered a spectacular view of the surrounding space. He puffed with pride at the dozen ships docked, and he nodded to himself approvingly at the work being done.

The Fleet, he could now boast, was in the best shape in which it had ever been. The structural survey his colleague, Secretary Roslin, had ordered for the Galactica (she'd claimed to be ensuring the safety of future visiting children) revealed glaring problems and oversights in ship construction. Tipped off to the hidden problem, he'd ordered random ships to have a complete inspection and, to his horror, several had failed. It was unacceptable and completely irresponsible. There were probably a few people whose ears were still ringing from the tongue lashing he'd given them for allowing Fleet Ships to be put into service that were not up to code. Nope. Nope. Nope. A Fleet ship would either be brought up to code or scrapped. Hector's fleet would be razor-sharp and battle-ready.

Looking up from the report in his hand, Hector took a deep breath and gazed at the Battlestar Yashuman from the viewport. It was done. According to the paper he clutched, the whole Fleet passed inspection. The Yashuman had been the last ship needing to undergo repairs and retrofits. Now she stood in the skies, proud and fierce. Every Battlestar in the Fleet, as he'd demanded, could now go toe to toe with a Cylon Basestar. Most of the escort class ships could give the Cylons a run for their money as well. Let them come, Hector thought. Richard Adar could waste time playing at peace, the Defense Ministry would keep preparing the Fleet.

And prepare the Fleet Hector had. Sparks flew on each side of the Yashuman as work continued on the new behemoths. There was a gleam in his eyes as he regarded the new ships. The knuckledraggers would get a few of these new Mercury MkII ships out before the peace talks. He'd been forced to scrap all the Jupiter class Battlestars as old relics; only the Galactica was spared. It was impressive how much of the material they were able to upcycle into newer, better ships. And better, they were. Armored. Dangerous. Deadly. Beautiful. The sight of them would send a clear message to the Cylons that the Colonies were willing and able to defend themselves.

Hector slid another folder on top of the pile he held in his hands. The Fleet Roster. Just over one hundred Mercury I and II, Valkyrie, and Orion class Battlestars. There were hundreds of support ships: Loki heavy Cruisers, Berzerk escorts, Defender support vessels, Celestra type ships, and more. There were thousands of ships in total. Hector looked over the names of the ships again, something he'd taken to doing ever since the peace with the Cylons had been announced. It made him feel good knowing they were prepared.

…

Ten Months Before the Human–Cylon Peace Accords

"Bill, do you know where you're going?" Laura asked from the passenger seat of the car after checking her watch. They were heading to a smaller city on Caprica, where they both had meetings to attend.

"Yes," Bill snapped, causing his wife to give him her warning look: raised eyebrow, slightly pursed lips, and a slow nod. Watch it Adama, she might as well have said. His own brows furrowed as he glared at the road, peering at each of the signs they passed.

"Maybe we should look at a map," Laura suggested.

"No," Bill grumbled, making a turn. Laura kept quiet for a moment, looking down at the papers she had on her lap. Most of them were requisition orders for the museum which would be on Galactica. Luckily, no one had asked her exactly why her museum needed enough emergency rations to feed a small planet. One person on the education committee asked about the viper flight simulators she'd ordered (Kara's request – she'd rather train nuggets in simulators if possible), and Laura looked him in the eye and said it would be good fun for the children who would visit. It was impressive how much of their work had flown under the radar over the years.

"Maybe we should stop and ask for directions," Laura offered after they sat for a particularly long pause at an intersection.

"No," Bill said, and Laura sighed, flipping her folder closed.

"Why do you kick up your heels at the idea of pulling over and getting directions. And maps?! What is your issue with maps?!" she exclaimed, pulling out her phone.

"Laura what are you doing?" Bill asked, looking over at her.

"Pulling a map up myself because you are too stubborn for your own good. Again," Laura said, with no small amount of exasperation in her tone.

"Are you making a crack about Kobol?" Bill growled in a low voice.

"I wasn't going for subtlety, dear," Laura replied, looking at him over the rim of her glasses.

"You know what, Laura," he said, abruptly pulling over to the side of the road and flicking the hazards on despite the area appearing deserted. "Maps are fine!" he snapped, reaching over to the glovebox to retrieve a map. In fact, he, like every command level officer and above in the Fleet, needed a respectable handle on stellar cartography. His own skills were good enough that he'd been able to draw up maps with planets marked down like Kobol and New Caprica and many of the tactical and strategic locations they'd discovered during their journey. He'd even shared those maps with Adar and with members of the Fleet. Laura knew this. She knew he could read maps. Maps are great, he thought. "My issue is with redheads who always think they know…"

"You're going the wrong way," Laura said, pointing to the screen of her phone. "It's a good thing you had Saul and Kara double check those maps of yours," she teased as if she'd known what he'd been thinking. Deciding he wasn't going to respond; he turned the car around and began driving in the opposite direction. He did glance over to Laura who was stifling a yawn. His irritation melted.

"Laura, lay back and close your eyes. I'll get us there," he said gently. She'd been working harder and harder as the date of the decommissioning drew nearer. They all had. As an Admiral, he had his work cut out for him, coordinating the missions of his Battlestar group. Still, he hated seeing Laura exhausted. He noticed her opening her mouth to protest. "I'll take a look at that map of yours if you try and catch a quick nap." She narrowed her eyes at him but handed over the phone with her directions pulled up.

He felt a hand on his forearm and glanced back over at her.

"Thank you," she said, giving him a small smile.

…

Eight Months Before the Human–Cylon Peace Accords

A representative of each Cylon model gathered in the Central Command Center. Cavil observed them seated around the table. Personality, he scoffed internally, looking at the so-called machines. Six's pronounced cleavage drew his attention first, and he cursed the stupidly predictable human programming he'd been designed with. He didn't want to be so human. He'd rather be ruled by equations than instinct. Doral sat in a lime green suit and Three sneered at anyone who met her eyes. They were all becoming… distinctive. He huffed and folded his arms, leaning his chair back and tallying up his observations of his brothers and sisters.

"They outnumber us by almost five to one," Leoben reported from the table. "Any direct attack would be suicide."

Cavil frowned at this. Even with his urging, Cylon production hadn't been able to keep up with the human's own ship production and, well, their messy, yet effective, biological reproduction. He shuddered. No thank you, he thought. Six and Simon could pursue that line of 'research' to their heart's… their programming's content.

"Almost all our attempts to infiltrate the Colonies have failed. We have no operatives in place," Doral said, holding himself stiffly upright in his chair while the corners of his mouth twitched. Cavil nearly laughed at him, and his attempt an impassivity. Doral had been humiliated when the humans rejected his application for the most basic security clearance so he could move up higher in his work with public relations in the government. Humans, Cavil mused, were terribly useful at keeping the Cylon models united. The people of the Twelve Colonies gave them something to rally against, and Cavil wondered what would happen when they were gone. He'd seen bits and pieces of memories he'd accessed from Future Cavil, but the story was incomplete. He shrugged. One thing at a time. Thinking of Future Cavil had him humming in thought.

"Maybe they knew what we look like," he wondered. Not that it mattered now. All the models, except Eight (although she'd started calling herself Sharon...another mark of individuality) had been revealed to President Adar during their peace talks. When they hadn't been able to place any operatives in useful positions of power, anonymity became useless. Although, Adar remembering him from years ago had been fun. Cavil explained that he'd been 'researching human religion'. Gullible human.

"Impossible," D'Anna scoffed at him.

"And yet, there are no Cylons on Battlestars. No Cylons in the government. No Cylons in any sensitive position," Leoben countered, and Cavil wondered if he'd go try speaking to the Hybrid after the meeting. Maybe he'd try to talk to her about streams and visions.

"In any case, we have adapted," Cavil proclaimed, standing up and looking over the gathered models.

"Is it enough?"

Cavil grinned.

…

Six Months Before Human–Cylon Peace Accords

Saul and Bill rarely took leave together planeside anymore. After Bill's promotion to Admiral, and subsequent responsibilities over an entire Battlestar Group, one of them usually needed to be aboard Galactica to mind the farm.

So, they were both thoroughly enjoying themselves at one of the more questionable bars on Caprica. Behind the bartender, muted colors of the bottles glistened, their glass catching bits of light. Saul had gazed lovingly at the selection before settling on the ice-cold beer in front of him. He hummed happily as he took another sip.

"I should make sure there's an entire case of this swill tucked away in my quarters… just in case," Saul muttered, nodding at the bartender to give him another. Bill shook his head at his friend, torn between amusement and chagrin, but that seemed to be the default state Saul Tigh left many people in.

"Get a chance to read Bulldog's report?" Bill asked.

"Caught up with him in person before he jumped out again. But no shoptalk tonight, Bill," Saul grumbled, not in the mood to discuss the Fleet, the attacks, the peace, secret missions, or anything else that had dominated their conversations ever increasingly. He just wanted a good beer with his buddy.

"We're here on business," Bill pointed out. Saul huffed but was used to meeting up with old pilot friends and fleeters over the years.

"Tab is on you then," he said with a shrug.

"If Husker's payin', I'll take one of what he's having," a new voice broke into the conversation. The metal hinges of a chair squeaked as the newcomer joined them at the bar. The smell of cigarettes rolled off him, joining the smell of booze in the bar. He grinned at Bill and Saul, who leaned forward to shake his hand.

"Good to see you, Coker," Bill said, nodding at the bartender who set a drink down for the newcomer.

"Well look at you! You're all grown up, Husker. Even got yourself some manners over the years," Coker said, sighing in pleasure at his drink and nodding approvingly. Bill grunted in a half chuckle. Coker Fasjovik, a veteran Lieutenant of the First Cylon War, had been Bill's cranky ECO during his time as a raptor pilot. One disastrously successful first mission had solidified their friendship, but the two men hadn't seen each other since then, only exchanging a few letters over the years.

The men exchanged pleasantries and caught up over their drinks. Their conversation melted into the hum of dozens of others happening in the dim bar. Coker immediately took to Saul, and the two acted like salty old sea dogs who'd known each other for years. They swapped some jokes at Bill's expense, and Coker hooted with laughter when he heard the 'little ensign' he'd known had made Admiral. Tigh and Coker compared stories about their wives, who had similar… vivacious spirits. Coker eyed Bill over his beer.

"You got yourself a woman, Husker?" Coker asked. "Hope your taste in women has improved." It was with no small amount of pride Bill sat up straighter and reached for one of two small pictures he usually kept in a pocket. He handed the photo of his wife to Coker who whistled approvingly before looking at the next image of three smiling boys. He nodded and smiled. "You did all right."

Someone hushed the crowd as the bartender turned up the TV over the bar.

"...half a year away from the signing of the peace treaty with the Cylons. Preparations continue…" Coker snorted loudly and downed his drink, motioning for another. "President Adar has enjoyed an enormous surge in popularity with the people at the possibility of a sustained peace with our one-time enemy," Bill huffed loudly at that and shook his head. "...agreement will see a new era of peace and prosperity…" Saul grunted and shook his head at the words pouring out of the reporter's mouth.

"Can you believe that bullshit?" Coker asked, nodding up toward the news.

"Actually, it's what I wanted to talk to you about," Bill said, looking over at his old colleague who frowned.

"Adama… I know that tone. I know I don't like that tone. Last time I heard that tone, I ended up getting shot," Coker said, looking between Bill and Saul with widening eyes.

"It might be nothing, it might not," Saul began.

"There might be a problem in six months, and there's some of us who are… preparing," Adama said, and began explaining the same story he and Saul had ironed out over the years to the contacts they'd maintained. A network of prepared people.

…

Four Months Before Human–Cylon Peace Accord

The hybrid's voice filled the plain, empty chamber. Despite the lack of an audience, her words echoed through the space.

"...on the wrong path they run and at their feet negative energy springs… adjust atmosphere in launch bays… what do we leave behind? Sister to sister, docking complete… raider production up by 15 percent. Cold logic brings cruel choices. End of the line. Carbon composite analysis complete… in the absence of love the greatest logic is useless…

Millions of miles away Laura Roslin awoke with a gasp and covered in sweat. She'd seen it again. The names of the twelve gods. The six who remembered. The glowing orb.

Two Months Before Human–Cylon Peace Accord

"That's the plan for Galactica's decommissioning. She'll be part of this frakkin' peace accords ceremony as the last Battlestar from the Cylon War," Laura explained over the phone. She hadn't made a business call to her husband in a very long time, and she sat in her office in Caprica City with the phone pressed to her ear.

"All part of this circus act," Bill grumbled over the phone, and Laura laughed. The final details for the various ceremonies surrounding the peace accords were being ironed out, and Galactica's decommissioning would now be part of the 'circus act' despite Bill's objections. Normally, an aide would have relayed the details to Galactica, but Laura gladly took the job instead. Once she finished giving her husband the relevant details, they chatted for a few moments. He told little anecdotes that made her laugh like how Kara was immensely grateful for the viper simulators now aboard Galactica and had already written new training programs to train nuggets.

"How was your doctor's appointment?" Bill asked, unbuttoning his uniform top as he reclined in his chair. He frowned at the lack of an immediate reply and felt his heart rate increase. "Laura?"

"I… missed the appointment," Laura admitted, fiddling with her pen on the desk while holding her breath. Her usual paperwork was scattered across the surface.

"Damn it, Laura," he said, his frustration evident in his tone.

"It's been really busy, Bill!" she sighed, rubbing her forehead. She closed her eyes and could hear her husband's heavy breathing. It was a tell-tale sign of his irritation.

"It's the third appointment you've missed," he growled, his hand forming into a tight fist on his desk. The damn woman had to have something against taking care of herself, he thundered internally. "You'll reschedule!" he ordered.

"Calm down, Bill," she retorted, recoiling at his bossiness. He knew she was busy. They were both busy. The weight of the future was a heavy burden they were forced to bear. "When I catch a break, I'll call the doctor."

"Are you planning on going?" he groused.

"You're overreacting," Laura sighed.

"'Scuse me?" he asked, and his voice was so low it sent a shiver up Laura's spine. She frowned and leaned back, closing her eyes, and listened. "I've tried my damndest to be a good husband. I've never asked for much. Going to the doctor and taking care of yourself was the one thing, the one thing, I did ask."

"I am," she promised.

"You missed three appointments," Bill replied and waited for a reaction. Silence hung in the air suspending the moment between them. He waited for Laura to make her typical sigh and apologize. He waited for her to hum before making more excuses. She did none of those things, and he waited in silence, feeling the heat rise in his veins. "Do you understand?" The question burst from him.

"Understand?"

"How much I love you?" he asked, and Laura felt her eyes instantly fill with tears. He still didn't say the words very often and she knew that was just his way. The absence of the words was not due to a lack of feeling on his part and she had never felt that something was missing; he showed his love in so many ways. Still, hearing the words, along with an exceptionally uncharacteristic amount of emotion in his tone, gave her pause. She remained rooted to her chair, and for a moment even forgot to breath. A knot in her stomach formed and she began realizing the mistake she'd made when he spoke again. "I want all the time we can have."

"Bill, I'm fine," she assured.

"You promised you'd go," he sighed, knowing she couldn't make such promises.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, but he didn't reply. "Are you mad at me?"

"Yes."

"I'll go to the doctor."

…

Day of the Human–Cylon Peace Accord

Laura Roslin tried to calm her racing heart while sitting silently and facing the currently unoccupied desk. Her face was impassive, not betraying any of the fear coursing through her body. Her hands gripped the leather armrests, her nails digging into the soft material. Waiting was the worst.

She looked out the large window at the dozens of ships flying by. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess. What was the doctor going to tell her? The doctor's office had called her in for this follow-up appointment, explaining her physician needed to run some extra tests. The results would be in soon, she knew. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

The door behind her banged open, and she jumped in her chair. The doctor's footsteps echoed through the sparsely decorated room. Who in the world needed an office so big? It was practically a small gymnasium. Each step caused the tension in her stomach to grow, and she felt increasingly nauseous. She tried to calm her breathing, as the doctor sat down behind the desk, a folder with her name clasped in his hand.

His expression was serious. Carefully, he folded his hands on the desk in front of him and met her eyes.

"The tests are positive."


	37. Many Returns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue taken from the mini-series and its deleted scenes

Red conveyed power, passion, and danger, so it was the perfect color for Laura Roslin. Scorching auburn curls tumbled down her back, and a dark wine-red skirt suit made her look sleek, polished, and just fierce enough. No subdued hairstyle or soft purple lilac suit this time; Laura wasn't going to look the part of naïve schoolteacher or reserved cabinet member - that wouldn't fit who she was anymore. She'd come alive long ago, leaving the quiet, demure Roslin behind. And, perhaps, her subconscious was also readying her to become a fiery leader again – just in case. It was better to be prepared.

Her heels clicked on the marble floor as she strode into the President's office directly behind Richard Adar. Both breathed heavily as they continued the argument which they'd started in the lobby of the government building. Hushed whispers were abandoned as they marched into the private office.

"Bringing a Cylon to Galactica is a security risk," Laura continued with her objections, stopping in front of his desk. Richard strode around it, tossing his folders on the surface. "You see the risk, right?"

"Being allowed to witness the decommissioning of Galactica in person is a sign of good faith between the Cylons and our people. They asked, and I agreed," Richard replied, putting the full authority of his office into his tone. Most people would consider that the end of the discussion, but Laura wasn't fazed.

"I heard the words 'good faith' from them before. Then I was hauled off, tortured, and experimented on," Laura said, pleased when Richard visibly flinched at her words. He didn't look up to meet her gaze but instead began pulling papers out of their folders, spreading them out over his desk.

"This timeline is different."

"Not that different," Laura scoffed; Richard Adar had certainly changed very little.

He sat down and leaned back in his chair. Pretending to be interested in the reports, Richard knew the divided attention would irritate Laura as they argued about Cylons and politics. He did enjoy her intensity when they clashed, and they continued going back and forth for several minutes. He flicked another piece of paper away before gracing Laura with his full attention again.

"You're always so sure you're right about everything," he sighed, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. His whole demeanor conveyed a president who was deigning to give an errant secretary his attention, and he grinned as Laura folded her arms. He liked reminding her that he was the most powerful person in the room. "Laura, I've worked hard for this. History will remember this as the time when the Colonies were made safe," he proclaimed, standing up and walking around his desk.

Watching Laura shake her head at him, Richard felt his blood boil. Seizing her chin, he halted the movement and forced her to look at him. Her eyes sparkled with defiance; she was the only one who dared look at him that way. He felt a thrill run up his spine as he held her firmly while giving his order.

"Doral will be attending the decommissioning ceremony as an envoy of his people. Understood?"

"Timelines may change, but no matter what, you're always certain you'll get what you want," she mocked in a low voice, turning to leave. An iron grip on her wrist whirled her back around and pressed Laura against the President's desk. Gasping in surprise, she felt the edge of the desk pressing against her.

"I usually get what I want, because I'm the gods-damn president," he growled. Seeing the retort on the tip of her tongue, he silenced it by pressing his mouth to hers. Years of her sass, lack of deference, and tension; Richard erupted. A muffled squeak of surprise escaped her, but he could barely hear it over the blood pounding in his ears.

"What the hell?" she asked, shoving him away. She stared at him wide eyed and felt her lips swelling from his bruising kiss. If her husband walked in at that moment, Richard would be dead in a minute. But Bill was millions of miles away on Galactica. She eyed the President warily.

"I've spent years watching you testify in front of the cabinet, unable to get through a session without wanting to frak you. You wanted me too, once. We were together in that other timeline after all, and you say things aren't that different," Richard pointed out, shoving her back against the desk again. Grabbing her wrists in his hands, he pinned them behind her after she made to push him away. Their gazes locked. I'm in control here, his eyes said. How could she even want to tell him no? Besides, she was the one who made him feel this way.

"Get off me," Laura grunted, struggling against him.

"I've believed you. Kept you safe. Even after you teased and flirted with me before running off with someone else, I still loved you!" Richard kissed along her jaw before biting her neck. Glancing at the red skin, he smiled knowing it would leave a mark. He pulled away to look her in the eye again. "After today, we can both be free. I'll be making Colonial history. The future will be what we make of it."

"I'll gladly be free of you," Laura growled, her voice dangerous and low. "You, the Cylons, and this whole mess." His cologne was overpowering from being so close to him, and she tried to control her breathing and racing heart. He had her pinned well.

"I'm not going to lose you, Laura," Richard promised. "You just need to remember what we had," he said, crushing his lips to her again, while his hands released her wrists and moved to her blouse. A sharp pain tore at him, and Richard yelped, jumping back. She had bitten down hard against his lower lip.

"I'm not yours to lose!" Laura exclaimed, putting every ounce of conviction in her voice while shoving him away as hard as possible. He staggered back. "I never was and never will be."

"Frak, Laura," Richard hissed, touching his lips with his fingers. When he looked down, he saw red blood. His lip throbbed from her attack, and he glared at the red stain. "This is Adama's fault," he spat, moving toward her again. Somehow, the stoic soldier had made his schoolteacher forget him, but he was sure he could remind her of what they could be, what they could have. A loud crack rang out, and he stumbled back.

"I am sick of you not taking no for an answer," Laura said, panting. She watched Richard wobble, dazed from the force of her blow. "And you are nothing compared to him. Did you think you'd ever come between us? That there was anything we'd ever let come between us?" she asked, pushing herself away from the desk. She glared at Richard Adar. "You couldn't take someone telling you no in the other timeline, but this time I'm never giving you anything but a NO!" she spat. In fact, it felt good telling him 'no' as forcefully and explicitly as she could. Finally.

"Get out," Richard hissed.

"Mr. President," she nodded, striding past with her head held high. She wasn't a naïve, depressed schoolteacher anymore who couldn't resist a president on a power-trip. Richard needed to feel the control he had over people, but she could be done with his games now.

"But if you walk through that door, you won't be welcome back in this government again. You're right. I don't take 'no' well."

"You're asking me to resign?" she asked with her hand on the door handle.

"Your usefulness has diminished. I can't have someone with Cylon prejudices serving in this administration as we begin this new era of peace with them," he replied, trying to make it sound less like the overt blackmail that it was.

Laura laughed. It was so clear now. Richard Adar was a sick, abusive, and manipulative prick, and he'd always been one. She'd been a president herself and had used her power to serve her people, not to herself be served like him.

"You're a bully, Richard. Always have been," she opened the door and looked at him over her shoulder. "I'll be retiring when I get back," she said, turning on her heels and striding through the door without a backward glance.

If I get back, she thought, walking through the building. Once more she was forced out of a job. Once more her life was on the line. She was amazed at how the timeline was so like the previous one. She frowned and tried not to let the line from Pythia taunt her.

…

Bill Adama walked through the Battlestar Galactica, rehearsing a speech he really didn't want to give. Again. In fact, he really didn't want to talk about "the Cylon war being long over" when the toasters walked too freely on the Colonies. Adar, their moron of a president, had allowed the enemy to continue observing humanity. The Cylons claimed they just wanted to learn what humans were like, but every time Bill saw those familiar Cylon faces, he recited the list of things he and the others had done to avoid the attacks and prepare for them if they happened anyway. Shaking his head, he dutifully kept his attention on the paper in his hand, reading the lines to himself with furrowed brows.

"Admiral Adama, if I may?" Captain Kelly said, coming up from behind him.

"Captain?" Bill glanced at his Landing Signal Officer.

"I just wanted to say what a pleasure it's been, serving under your command," Kelly said. The sentiment rang similar to many others his fellow crewmen had already wished their commanding officer.

"It's been my honor," Bill said, forcing himself to ignore the eerie feeling of deja-vu he felt tingling in the back of his mind. He suppressed shuddering and spoke in a level voice. "Good luck in your next assignment." He nodded at his officer who moved off down a well-lit corridor. Galactica still practically glowed from her overhaul; life pulsed through circuits and bulkheads. No flickering lights. No creaking, fracturing metal. Still, his eyes swept over the crisp lines and clean metal. Checking. Reassuring.

Returning his attention to the speech in his hand, Bill avoided looking up and meeting people's eyes. Every time crewmen caught his gaze, they wished him congratulations or tried to talk, and he really did need to look over the speech. Their reactions were natural, and he liked hearing his crewmen moving through the ship excited and happy. There was an electricity in the air as a million possibilities swirled around the crew. Chatter filled the air as his crew talked about their next challenges and adventures; they were giddy with excitement at the Peace Accords. To them it felt like the dawning of a new era - a brave new world.

Pounding footsteps of runners thumped along the corridor, slowing as two people maneuvered alongside him.

"Morning, sir!" called a familiar voice. Exactly like last time, Bill thought, quelling his unease and opening his mouth to reply. Unexpectedly, another voice joined in before he could get the words out. Not like last time, Bill realized, feeling his muscles physically relax.

"Morning, dad," panted a familiar voice, breathless and tired.

"Morning, Liam, Kara. What do you hear, Starbuck?" Bill couldn't stop the small grin which twitched onto his face when he looked over and saw his children.

"Nothin' but the rain," she chanted back, laughing.

"Grab your gun and bring in the cat," Bill answered, completing their now very old ritual.

"Boom, boom, boom," Liam gasped after Kara nudged him, bringing her adoptive little brother into the ritual. Liam had come with Zak early to Galactica to spend time on the Battlestar. Starbuck looked like she was putting Liam through his paces; he wanted to spend time in the viper simulators later, but she'd told him he had to act like a real viper pilot and work out first.

"C'mon hot-shot. We're completing this lap," Starbuck said, moving onward while Liam kept up behind her. Bill chuckled, watching his son and daughter disappear around the corner. Welcome changes, he thought.

…

Bill strode into the Combat Information Center after having an eerie but entertaining enough encounter with three of his deck crewmen. Walking to his post, he took a long look at the familiar consoles, monitors, the overhead DRADIS screens, and the faces of dozens of crewmen. This time, they were running a full crew compliment despite the impending decommissioning - he'd insisted. He felt a knot in the pit of his stomach as he came to his usual spot in CIC. This was the long-awaited day.

His Officer of the Watch, Lieutenant Felix Gaeta, handed him a stack of papers from the watch.

"Anything interesting?" Bill asked, looking Gaeta in the eye. He no longer stiffened reflexively anytime he saw the young lieutenant. This Felix was all idealism and happiness, and the cold rage Bill had felt towards him for his part in the mutiny had thawed. A trace of ice might have remained, but one day Bill walked into CIC and saw Gaeta and Dualla laughing together, and he was reminded of how very young they were and how very unfair their lives had been in the other timeline. So far, Gaeta had only ever been an efficient and detail-oriented officer, so that's how Bill decided to treat him. He tried to anyway.

"No, sir. Fleet Battlestars are reporting to their positions along the armistice line. The President is due to arrive at Armistice Station at 1800 hours onboard Colonial One," Gaeta reported while his CO looked through the reports.

This was different. Battlestars and Baseships would meet by armistice station as the President and Cylon representative came to the Armistice Station for the Peace Accords. The President would give a speech, the Cylon Six would give a speech, Galactica would be decommissioned, the Cylon's oldest Basestar would be decommissioned, and then the treaty would be signed. Bill sighed; he hated pomp and ceremony.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Bill said, and Gaeta heard the dismissal in the tone.

"Yes, sir," Gaeta said. He made to walk away before turning back to his commanding officer. "May I take this opportunity to say what a pleasure and honor it's been to serve under you these past three years?" he said, looking like a little boy who wanted approval from his father. Bill felt his stomach drop; the eerie deja-vu feeling was back.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he replied, giving him a polite nod.

…

She hadn't changed much over the years, Doral thought. He knew the Secretary of Education clearly didn't like him. The calculated looks they threw unreservedly at one another, and the ever so slightly narrowed eyes, helped make both their feelings clear. They made their way through the spaceport with other members of the party heading to Galactica. He watched her, observing the woman who'd once piqued Cavil's interest.

Confident and graceful for sure, Doral was intrigued by the moments when a shadow seemed to cross over her. She'd frozen for a few moments as they boarded Colonial 798. He was sure he'd seen her shudder and heard her gasp before she'd continued moving. He followed her through the compartments, watching her wandering gaze. She'd constantly paused and pursed her lips as they made their way to their seats. He rolled his eyes; humans were such strange beings. All he needed to do was get to Galactica, contact the Eight stationed there, and then he'd be done babysitting Laura Roslin.

...

Out the window of the starliner, Laura saw the Caprican ocean. It was calm on the surface today, but under that almost glassy surface, deep in those blue depths were currents which swirled and churned with energy. She felt a bit like that ocean right now while waiting; calm on the outside, but a storm raged inside her.

So many thoughts raced through her mind, not letting her rest long on any one subject. The doctor's words echoed in her ears. Her fist still hurt from hitting Adar. She'd soon see Galactica again. It felt like her heart rate was trying to keep up with the pace of her thoughts. Laura alternated between twisting the wedding band she wore and fiddling with the onyx necklace she rarely took off. Little anchors. She curled her fingers hard around the pendant when footsteps drew near, but they passed by and Laura breathed again. Her senses were on overdrive with anticipation.

She sighed and rested her head back against the leather of her chair, trying not to look around again at Colonial One…Colonial Transport 798, she corrected herself, closing her eyes.

Her old ship looked so…new. It was a state-of-the-art luxury liner that now once more resembled the passenger vehicle it was designed to be and not the state ship it had become. A lump had formed in her throat when she'd come to one compartment. She'd crossed through the space in a complete trance while staring at the floor - the blood of her gunned down Quorum delegates no longer stained it. She couldn't stop noticing the changes; there was no desk where she'd labored over reports and ration distributions, no picture on the wall, and no erase board with a number that never seemed to go up.

"Secretary Roslin?" a voice asked. Oh Gods, Laura thought, feeling a tightness in her chest. She pursed her lips to keep from crying out. Slowly, deliberately, she opened her eyes and shifted in her seat, looking up. There he was. A young man with curly hair and a briefcase who smiled at her. Instantly, she felt a warmth behind her eyes which she pushed away.

"Yes?" she asked with a smile.

"I'm Bill Keikeya. Your new assistant," he said, introducing himself. She nodded and gestured for him to sit beside her. It was him. Young, earnest Billy looking as innocent and sweet as she remembered.

"Hello, Billy," she said warmly and watched as Billy's eyes flicked between her and the Cylon seated opposite her.

"Aaron Doral," the Cylon greeted. Laura felt her eye twitch.

"Ummm, I was asked to give this briefing book to you," Billy said, pulling a three-ring binder from his briefcase and handing it to his new boss. Laura couldn't help the slight chuckle that escaped her lips. She wouldn't need it; it had information on Galactica, her commanding officer, and the museum, and Laura liked to think she knew a fair bit about all three of those now. Her department liked being prepared though.

"Thank you," she whispered, setting it down and studying Billy. Their eyes met and a look passed between them. Laura heard his sharp intake of breath.

"Billy?" she whispered, a question there.

"You remember me?" he asked, not bothering with any veiled probing for information. It was so like Billy to blurt questions out, Laura thought while she nodded. Billy laughed with relief. "I thought I was losing my mind this morning!" Poor kid; Laura realized he had only just regained his memories. What a day he must be having. Laura felt a tear escape her eyes as she smiled at Billy.

"I missed you," she admitted. Billy nodded and frowned, rubbing where the bullet that killed him had pierced his skin. He was about to ask what happened when the announcement system cracked to life.

"We are preparing for departure to Galactica, with an expected flight time of five and a half hours…" the captain announced.

"Galactica," Billy murmured almost reverently. Laura nodded. Her old home. She felt an ache in her heart at the thought of seeing it again. The transport lifted away from Caprica and roared skyward. They looked out the window again as their home planet faded away and became one of a million dots in the heavens. Would they ever see it again?

"I have so many questions," Billy said, wanting to know what had become of the rag-tag fleet. "What happened? And, why are things different?" he asked, his gaze flicking to Doral who watched them with interest.

"In time," Laura said, her gaze darting over to Doral as well in a subtle warning. Billy nodded in understanding. "It really is so very good to see you again, Billy," Laura smiled patting his arm affectionately.

"You too, Madame… Secretary," Billy said, making a face.

…

Billy Keikeya realized he was never going to live this down. He'd gone and gotten himself separated from the Secretary of Education *again* despite knowing the layout of the ship and where Roslin was going. Why? A woman. Her. He'd seen Anastasia Dualla again, and she'd looked at him with those teasing, warm brown eyes. Billy's stomach felt like he'd been knocked clean off the tallest Caprica City skyscraper. For a moment, he stood rooted to the deckplates while his mouth ran dry. Was that him swaying back and forth? He looked around, realizing Roslin was very much gone, and he was acting exactly like he had the first time he'd come to Galactica.

Without him consciously telling his feet to move, they started trailing after Dee.

He trailed after her straight into a unisex head. His stomach dropped again. Billy had tried to block this bit of embarrassment from his mind. If he weren't an atheist, he'd say the Gods hated him. He gulped.

"In … or out!" Dee snapped at Billy as she washed an arm in the wash basin. He was staring stupidly, wasn't he? He swallowed hard.

"Huh?" Billy asked, feeling his head spin as he looked at her. She was the same as she'd been when they first met. Same fire. Same grace.

"Get in or get out. Shut the hatch."

"Sorry!" he muttered, reaching to pull the hatch closed behind him. He tried to open his mouth to say more, but the words weren't coming. She looked at him with amused exasperation, and Billy felt his knees wobble.

"Where are you trying to be?" she asked, as if he were a dolt and she was trying not to mock him too much.

"Uh—visitors' quarters," he mumbled, being nudged to the side while other Galactica personnel pushed into the head. "I'm a visitor," he said, wondering if his voice had come out too pitchy sounding. She was laughing at him. Was that a good or bad sign?

"Never would have guessed!" Billy's face burned red as a thousand emotions crashed through him. Dee mistook it as embarrassment. "Never been in a unisex head before?"

"Uhm," Billy wasn't sure how to answer. I used them in the future, he thought but thankfully his mouth still wasn't working. She was laughing at him still, and it sounded sweet to his ears.

"Well, there's not much privacy on a warship. So, the first rule is, don't get your panties in a bunch at being seen. Second rule is," she said, stopping to give him a pointed look. "Don't stare." That was exactly what he'd been doing. He couldn't help it.

"Sorry," he said, trying to look away from her as she dressed.

"C'mon," she said, zipping up her sweatshirt. "Let's return you," she sighed, as if he were an errant child on a fieldtrip. He nodded and followed her out the head and down a corridor. "What's your name?"

He swallowed, trying not to be overwhelmed by her smile. She had always had the prettiest smile.

"Billy."

"Hi, Billy. I'm Petty Officer Dualla, Crew Specialist," she watched his mouth try and repeat the words back and smiled at him again. She took pity on him. "Call me Dee."

"Hi, Dee," he said, feeling his heart skip a beat when he said her name. His heart skipped another beat when he heard two familiar voices growing louder.

"...integrated computer network, and I will not have it on this ship," a deep gravelly voice stated. Billy looked ahead and saw Laura Roslin and Bill Adama walking side by side.

"I heard you're one of those people. You're actually afraid of computers." Billy cringed at the tone of Roslin's voice. It was teasing and almost mocking; hadn't she learned how to get along with the military? He thought she had, and suddenly there was a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"No, there are many computers on this ship. But they're not networked, Fleet policy for Battlestars," Adama said, stopping to face Roslin. Billy watched her smile at Adama, as if indulging him. Frak, Billy thought, hoping Roslin wasn't going to be unbearable with memories of the future. He loved her like a mother, but he really didn't want to get caught in the crossfire between the two titans ever again. "...not allow a networked computerized system to be placed upon this ship while I'm in command. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir, whatever you say, sir." Roslin was trying hard not to giggle now as Billy and Dee approached.

Billy could see it all happening again. She was going to get herself thrown in the brig. He was going to get caught in the middle of their argument. He watched their attention turn to him.

"There you are, Billy!" Laura said, and now looked as if she were trying not to laugh at him while Adama thanked Dee for returning the errant assistant. Billy looked between Dee as she walked off, to Roslin and Adama.

"Oh dear, I think we have Billy worried," Roslin said, tilting her head to the side. Billy tried to reply, but words didn't seem to be his forte that day. To be fair, there was a lot going on in his mind.

"Mr. Keikeya?" Adama asked, his hands on his hips.

"He probably remembers what you do to people who disagree with you," Roslin teased.

"Listen and act accordingly?" Adama retorted. Billy looked at Adama as the wheels in his mind turned. Did he?

"We were just… remembering how we first met," Laura laughed. Billy let out and audible sigh of relief; Adama remembered too. "Billy, I'd like to introduce you to Admiral Adama. My husband," Laura said, smiling. Billy's eyes widened.

"It's good to see you, Billy," Adama said, nodding at him.

"C'mon, lets finish bringing you up to speed now that Doral's not around," Laura said, watching her assistant standing there gawking at them. He nodded mutely.

"Wardroom, we have to be there in half an hour anyway," Bill muttered.

"You married him?!" Billy squeaked after they started off down the corridor.

…

Billy got the abridged version of events, learning as much as possible within the time permitted. He leaned against a wall in the wardroom, needing the support as he listened to everything. Laura spared some of the details, things he didn't need to know, but by the end her assistant was nodding. They continued talking in a corner quietly, but their privacy was interrupted by the arrival of newcomers.

Media crews entered the room, cameras held in their hands as they talked among themselves. Bill tried to remember the name of the PR representative. Not Doral, thank the Gods, although, it had unsettled him to see the man following Laura around Galactica. He'd been shown to his quarters, and a marine had been assigned to follow him.

Watching the media camera crews set up, Bill could hear the echo of a distant conversation ringing against the walls. 'Why don't you talk to me, Lee?' his gravelly voice had once asked. 'I don't have anything to say' came Lee's angry reply. Looking toward the door, his oldest son was now maneuvering past the press and walking toward him.

"Dad," Lee said, a touch of formality in his tone while they were in dress greys. Even so, he grinned at his Old Man. "Big day."

Bill looked at his son, and for a moment the emotions welled up in him. This time his oldest son wasn't bursting with anger. In fact, he looked at his father with affection and respect.

"Big day," Bill agreed, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Where are…" he trailed off for a moment. How long had it been, and the memories could still come back clear as if they'd happened moments ago? A flag-draped coffin. Lee bitter and angry while trying to grieve his dead brother. 'You're not even listening to me! Why can't you get this through your head? Zak did not belong in that plane!' Lee had yelled at him with so much bitter anger in this very room. For a moment, the words Bill remembered hit him like a physical blow.

"Zak and Liam will be here in a minute," Lee said, anticipating the question Bill had been asking. Lee looked at his father, who was giving him a strange look. "Kara let them have a few rounds in the simulator. Liam is a natural, but Zak kept crashing at every landing," Lee laughed. Bill felt his chest tense and remembered the final verbal gunshot his oldest son had once fired; 'face it. You killed him.'

"Oh, my Gods, dad, I'm sorry, I forgot," Lee said, seeing his father's pained expression. He'd learned what had happened from Kara and saw a shadow at the memory of the tragedy pass over his father.

Zak and Liam burst into the wardroom. Zak fidgeted with his sash; the feeling of the starched, stiff dress uniform still new to him. Liam grinned like the kid he still was, exhilarated from his time in the viper simulator.

"We're all here dad," Lee assured Bill quietly as they both watched the youngest Adamas join them. A moment later the PR representative was calling for the Adama family to come pose for the demanded photos.

Laura glanced back at Billy, who had a small grin on his face, before looking at her husband. A look of understanding passed between them; our sons are back. The PR person yelped at them to get into position.

Bill felt light as he put an arm around his wife while their boys crowded around them. A happy family. This time it wasn't a fake tableau, staged by a demanding undercover Cylon. This time, the photographers captured three mischievous boys smiling into the camera, one Secretary of Education trying not to giggle, and a retiring Admiral who was failing at keeping his face stoic.

…

Laura couldn't open the hatch – her hands wouldn't stretch out to touch the metal. Her body was frozen, completely rooted to the spot while her gaze locked onto the word 'Commander' stenciled onto the hatch. She was back. A gentle touch on her back felt reassuring, and Bill reached over to twist the handle for her. The hatch swung open and, after a moment's hesitation, they entered Bill's quarters.

Sixteen years. It had been sixteen years since she'd stood in these rooms.

Two very unsteady legs carried her forward, and she took his quarters in, slowly turning and absorbing every detail. The smell of leather and books greeted Laura, welcoming her back. She gasped and brought her hand to her mouth. Despite how long she'd been away, an echo of home was still there. Her heart rose and sank; she used to know every detail of this space, but it was still a place of warmth for her. Bill's arms snaked around her, embracing her from behind.

"It's a lot, being back," he agreed, sensing how overwhelmed she felt.

"How much time did we spend here together?" she asked in a breathy rasp, looking around. Here they'd flirted and argued. Here they'd disliked, cared, and, finally, loved.

"I've missed your heels lying on the floor. It always felt like something was missing without you here," Bill said, nuzzling his wife's hair as memories pushed through their minds. Torn cards on the floor, arguments, giggles, reports scattered over every surface, and two people learning how to be one half of a whole.

His quarters looked much the same to Laura. Leather books, warm tones, and plush carpets. It was inviting. She shuddered, taking in the paintings, statues, and couch.

"I learned how to love here," Laura breathed, tears sliding down her cheeks.

"And I learned what home really meant when you lived here," Bill replied. He heard Laura's sniffles that she tried to cover.

"Laura?"

"I'm in the photos this time," she realized, looking at the different images captured of their family which her husband had scattered around his space. She turned in his arms and looked up at him.

"We've made good changes," Bill murmured. "Gods, Laura, the last time you were here," he said, trailing off. Laura looked up at him, seeing the haunted look in his eyes.

"Bill, look at me," she urged, holding up her hands between them. "No shaking, no trembling, I'm right here. I'm ok," Laura reassured, placing her hands on his chest, her fingers tracing the line where his scar had once been. "And so are you."

"The doctor? You said there would be a follow up…"

"This morning. But," Laura took a deep breath and looked into her husband's worried blue eyes. "Everything is fine," she heard herself saying before her thoughts could catch up. She saw the relief wash over his features, and his forehead rested against hers.

"I still want more time with you, Laura," he murmured.

"I know. I love you, Bill Adama," Laura said, pulling him down to kiss her, trying not to think of test results and worried doctors. Her blouse shifted, and he noticed the angry red mark on her neck when they pulled apart. Laura sighed and explained what happened with Adar. Bill was impressed that his wife had decked the Adar, but he made several vows of bodily harm and, technically treasonous, threats of death toward the current president.

"You're ok?" he asked, calming down.

"Everything is fine," she assured him, leaning into his embrace and letting the turbulent feelings of being back settle in her. They'd need to get ready for the ceremony soon, but they could have a few minutes to themselves.

Hearing her assurances, Bill relaxed. For that moment, he enjoyed the feeling of holding his whole world in his arms. Whatever happened, she knew how much he loved her, and he'd enjoyed a life where she'd loved him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this chapter. Billy is back! It was a bit intense though. I'd love to hear what ya'll thought. :)


	38. Sine Qua Non

Books had always been an important facet of Laura and Bill's relationship. In their opinion, there was nothing more romantic than sharing literature. The written world created a gateway to both heart and soul.

There were a few hours before the decommissioning. Laura reclined on the familiar leather couch, curled her legs underneath her, and balanced a book on her lap. It felt strange but good to be back; these quarters were where she'd learned about the surprisingly warm man underneath the uniform, and where she'd felt safe enough to slowly let down the barriers around her own heart. There was a warmth suffused through this space that felt timeless, and she relaxed while reading, unaware of her husband watching her.

I have a weakness for mysteries, she'd confessed to him in this very space after a moment of shy hesitation. It was the first intimate detail Bill learned about Laura Roslin. Through books, Bill started to see the woman behind the President, and he found her fierce, infuriating, intriguing, and surprisingly vulnerable.

They'd exchanged books during Bill's deployments to help bridge the millions of miles between them. Many of those gifts were scattered around his quarters now, tucked in between the family pictures Laura and Liam were now in. The newest photo, given to Bill by his deck gang, stood proudly on his desk, this time showing three sons and two smiling parents.

"What are you reading?" Bill asked, moving from his desk and trying to get a good look at the front of his wife's book. Laura pulled it further into her lap, effectively hiding it from his view. "Trashy romance novel?" he teased at her strange evasiveness.

"I do like other genres besides mysteries," she retorted with an indignant huff. "I once enjoyed a romance novel from time to time. Even added one to the public-school system's curriculum."

"But, what's the appeal?" he asked, trying not to scoff, knowing that would irritate his wife. His survival tactics dictated that he not deliberately provoke Roslin. She had a devious streak and a penchant for retaliation that had left him in more than one uncomfortable situation.

"The appeal is reading about people falling in love, while they come more fully into themselves. The characters are discovering their strength and independence while learning to be proud of who they are. It's nice to read a story where, despite the suffering, there will be a happy ending," Laura explained, giving him a look over her glasses. They knew better than most the value of a happy ending after pain and suffering. She gestured at the red mark on her neck from Adar's unwanted advances. "It's also refreshing to read a genre where a woman's wants and desires are at least respected," Laura said, her tone dry.

"You should have been romanced," Bill said sadly. He looked sharply over at Laura when she snorted.

"You did one of the most foolish and romantic things in the entire history of the Twelve Colonies by waiting for me alone in a raptor," Laura replied. Hell, she'd confessed her love for him there on the spot when he'd stepped off the craft. Her heart still fluttered thinking about his crazy stunt. He'd given up everything on the slim chance he'd find her, a dying woman, again because he couldn't live without her. It was better than any novel she'd read, and Laura felt a surge of love for her stubborn but wonderful husband at the memories. "You've always been perfect for me. What I need," she assured, reaching over and taking his hand. "You've made me happy."

I make her happy, he repeated silently to himself. They shared a look, and Bill felt his heart reassured.

Remembering the doctor's dire words, Laura couldn't hold her husband's gaze. Instead, her eyes swept through the room again. She didn't feel this the time to talk about it. While she was distracted, Bill tugged the tome away from her. He looked down and saw that it wasn't a romance.

"This is your old journal. You wrote about everything that happened after the attacks in it."

"You know, I can barely remember some of those times now. Sixteen years is a long time," she breathed. "I've looked through it all…I think we've done all we can."

"Yes," he said, setting the book on the coffee table before leaning back and putting an arm around her. "What would the title of our book be?" Bill suddenly asked, gesturing at her journal. Laura thought for a moment.

"Sine Qua Non," she replied. She smiled and knew what the first line of their book should say. "On the day the world ended, a new journey began with nothing more than a secret and a handshake."

...

Standing on Galactica, moments away from the beginning of the Peace Accords, Saul couldn't help but compare the two timelines in his mind. Trying to keep his flirtatious wife quiet in a dark corner of the museum, he decided he much preferred this timeline. This time, Ellen had willing come to the decommissioning ceremony at his invitation, stepping off the transport with a grin on her face and a bottle of ambrosia hidden in her purse. She'd flatly refused to come last time.

Earlier in the evening, instead of watching the beginning of the Peace Accords, Saul showed his wife through the exhibits of the museum. The moment she saw an opportunity, Ellen had dragged him to a dark corner of the museum in order to have her wicked way with him. She'd always be his Ellen; petty, pretty, and petulant. He loved her. It felt good knowing he'd done well enough by his Ellen in this timeline.

Straightening their clothes, the Tighs made their way to the raised dais. Bill and Laura were already there, speaking with other VIPS who were assembling. Saul noticed the same priestess from all those years ago but couldn't think of her name. He couldn't be sure, but by the expression on Laura's face, the woman didn't remember.

…

Laura sat ramrod straight in her chair, poised, and unmoving as if she'd been chiseled from pale Libran marble. She'd been dreading this day for years, and there was no halting these next grandiose moments. At this point, nothing could be done, and nothing could be undone.

President Adar had already opened the Peace Accords with a polite, political piece of flim-flam masquerading as a meaningful speech, but it delighted the masses. Everyone from Aerilon to Sagittarian must have clapped at the fluff he spouted. The Peace Accords proceeded until it was time for the decommissioning of Galactica - the last surviving warship of the first Cylon War. As the time drew nigh, officers and dignitaries moved to their chairs on the dais which was set up in Galactica's hangar bay. Laura's hands were clasped together in her lap, and they felt cold as if resisting any of the warmth struggling to seep into them.

The decommissioning began, and there were entirely too many people giving dull speeches. Laura spent most of the ceremony lost in thought as imaginary scenarios playing out in her mind. Would the Cylon Centurions on Armistice Station raise their arms and start shooting the members of the political cabinet gathered there? Would the Cylon Basestars launch nukes against the Colonies?

Finally, Laura heard herself being introduced by the Master of Ceremonies. She gracefully stood and glided toward the podium. Taking a deep breath, she saw Billy sitting down in the audience. Less than an hour ago, he'd begged his sisters over the phone to leave Picon, even getting them flights off world so they'd be in space for at least the next day. Just in case. Laura had heard the worry in his voice. He was scared. Hell, she was scared. Even Jack Cottle was scared. They all seemed to know that there were no do-overs this time.

"Museums are the tangible symbols of how we reacted to new and different things. We stand in them and allow ourselves to see our past and hopefully use the lessons it teaches us to avoid similar mistakes in the present and future…" her speech began. Although her body felt cold to the bone, her tone was as warm as the blazing sun. Despite the warmth, there were undercurrents of power in her voice, more than her lithe form and schoolteacher's words should suggest.

She spoke of the service Galactica and her crew had given, both in war and in peace, and how the ship would continue to remind people what the price of peace had cost the Colonies. It wasn't the speech the President had approved, but she was leaving office anyway. She received polite applause just like the other speakers, with a louder following among the Fleeters in the crowd. They appreciated her deference to their sacrifices. She took her seat and saw Billy grinning at her; a much better seal of approval than a sign-off from Adar.

"Thank you so much for those words of inspiration. And now it's my great honor to present to you a ceremonial, precision-formation flyby of the very last squadron of Galactica fighter pilots, led by none other than Captain Lee Adama." Laura smiled as she watched the vipers through the glass ceiling. Her stepson was there in front of the formation, zooming past at the tip of the arrowhead. Kara, who'd avoided the brig this time, was there on Lee's wing. There was something right about the two children flying together in the sky. The audience gasped and applauded, pleased by the spectacle.

The master of ceremonies approached the podium again.

"And now, it is my great pleasure to introduce the last commander of the Battlestar Galactica, a man who served on this ship as a young pilot during the years of the Cylon War, and later came back to command her and her Battlestar Group through years of peace—Admiral William Adama."

Laura, having resumed sitting elegantly and tensed in her chair, caught her husband's eye as he stood. It felt as if every ounce of breath was taken from her lungs and the world stopped for a moment. She remembered being struck by his intelligence and down-to-earth demeanor during the first ceremony, but it was his honesty that had caused her to be the first to clap back then. Giving her husband a smile of pride, she saw the nod he gave her in return. He turned and moved to the podium with deliberate movement. She wondered what her proud and unconventional Admiral was going to say.

And then he began, in that deep, rough, and commanding voice.

"The Cylon war is long over," he began, looking out, as though to meet the gaze of everyone in the crowd. "Yet we must not forget the reasons why so many sacrificed so much in the cause of freedom. The cost of wearing the uniform … can be high," Bill said and paused. He looked out at the crowd wondering if they could ever imagine what the price wearing a uniform could be. Was it possible for the posh VIPs to fathom how many had died? Could they imagine the Viper pilots jumping into their birds, knowing the second their hands touched the controls, they thought of themselves as already dead. It was easier that way. What about the stolen moments Fleeters took to try and be a family? The separations. The missed moments. Bill held the pause, letting the crowd feel uncomfortable. "Sometimes it's too high."

Bill could see members of the audience shifting with unease as he continued speaking. He blazed forward with his words, voicing truths most would rather leave unspoken. It wasn't a long speech, and he drew it to a close soon.

"...why are a people worth saving?" Bill drew a breath, letting the words that needed to be said break free. Deliberately, he left it open and applicable to both races. Why are the Colonials worth saving? Why had the Cylons eventually been worth saving?

"Sooner or later the day comes when you can't hide from the things that you've done."

With that, Bill Adama turned on his heels and returned to his seat. The crowd sat in a stunned silence, until his wife started clapping.

…

Doral strode through the corridors of Galactica, aware of the marine guard tailing him. He shook his head at the Colonials attempt at security; a few marine guards wouldn't be enough. The traitor was already in their midst, and he grinned when he saw her. Looking down at the papers in his hand, he maneuvered ever so slightly in the wrong direction. Perfectly out of place, he collided head on with his target, making it look accidental. He dropped the papers in his hand, and they scattered across the floor. Apologies were muttered on both sides as the two Cylons bent down to gather them up.

"Sharon," Doral greeted under his breath.

"Five," she replied in her own low whisper. Her current assignment was to be the raptor escort for Galactica's last viper squadron as they flew to Picon for reassignment. She was clothed in her flight suit and had been heading toward the hanger bay before being unceremoniously rammed by Model Five. She held her breath and waited for Doral to explain himself. Her heart hammered in her chest.

"I have your mission," Doral whispered so quietly that there was no hope of the marines overhearing them. Sharon swallowed hard but nodded.

"Go," Sharon said, gathering up some of the papers.

"Once the attacks begin, you are to kill the Secretary of Education," Doral murmured with no emotion in his tone at commanding the summary execution of someone. The orders now delivered; Doral began to stand.

"What?" Sharon asked, frozen and wide eyed on the ground. Her breath was coming out in increasingly shorter gasps. This wasn't like last time at all.

"All other members of their political cabinet are taken care of. Laura Roslin is the only loose end. Eliminate her as soon as the attacks begin," Doral growled. He'd do it himself if he could, but the Colonials hadn't let him carry weapons on his person. Checking his watch, he smiled. "Any second they'll begin. Carry out the orders however you wish. Shoot her ship down, use a gun, an airlock…" he suggested with a shrug.

"The attacks?" Sharon asked, her fingers spread wide as she braced herself against the floor. Horror crashed over her.

"Sleeper agents," Doral muttered, shaking his head in disdain. They asked too many questions in his opinion. "You have your mission," he said and stood. Giving her a nod and an apology for crashing into her, he continued moving through the corridors, having lingered almost too long.

Standing with shaking legs, Sharon gave him a crisp nod and moved casually in the other direction. Orders received, her movements said.

As soon as Doral was out of sight, she ran like the hounds of Hades were on her tail. Darting through the corridors of Galactica, she prepared to carry out her only mission, remembering all the demons in her life. Her choices, her demons, held her by the neck so tightly it felt as if they squeezed all the air out of her. Hadn't fate gotten tired of being so suffocating? Out of breath, she collided with Admiral Adama outside his own quarters. He was returning after seeing his wife onto the Colonial 798.

"Admiral! The attacks..." she panted, as he helped hold her upright. "They're gonna happen!" she exclaimed. This was, to her, the only mission she had; immediately pass on any intelligence on the Cylons as she received it.

She stood there gasping and clutching at her constricted feeling throat. Who knows how much time they had? She watched Adama's eyes go wide. "Doral, he ordered me to kill Roslin when the attacks happened. The rest of the government is…" she shook her head, panting and trying to catch her breath.

Bill's heart thundered in his chest. His wife and three sons were leaving soon to fly back to Caprica for the impending celebrations. Lee was probably already in his Viper, ready to escort the Secretary of Education back to the Colonies where she'd attend the forthcoming peace celebrations with the rest of the cabinet. The treaty would be signed any moment now. He looked at Boomer.

"You know what to do," he growled, racing to CIC.

…

On Armistice Station, President Adar signed his name on the Peace Treaty with a flourish. As Cylon Model One accepted the proffered pen from the outstretched hand of the smiling politician, he also grinned.

"Did you think…" Cavil asked as the station rumbled under their feet from a shockwave. "That we ever stopped hating you?"

…

Baltar sat watching the newscasts on the video screens. He had seen numerous flashes from his windows as he looked to the horizon, but somehow the newscast from his TV made it real. Surely, he had wanted to believe, this had all just been his imagination - the flashes outside. Maybe it was just…mining disasters. The newscasters forced him to admit the awful truth.

It was real. On one of his screens, the pretty newscaster who had interviewed him just days ago tried to keep a brave face for the viewers.

"We are trying to piece together unconfirmed reports of nuclear attacks. We don't have any further information yet. No actual enemy has been sighted…"

On the other screen, a man broadcasted from the streets of Caprica.

"The spaceports have been hit. There are no spacecraft left which can leave Caprica. Our best advice is to stay inside. If you must leave, head out into the country …" From the corner of his eyes, Baltar saw his Cylon lover look at him sadly.

"You have to go," she whispered.

...

In the cabin of the transport, a weary Laura Roslin collapsed in her seat, eyes closed. Billy sat beside her in the window seat, tired but energized, as they fastened their seatbelts and prepared to take off.

Taking her glasses off her face, Laura rubbed her forehead. Her stomach clenched, and she tasted bile in her throat. What's happening? she asked herself.

"Is everything alright Madame Secretary?" Bill asked, frowning with concern at the expression on Laura's face. Laura was able to give him a weak smile, and after a moment's hesitation nodded. It felt like something ugly was coming.

...

"Don't let the heavy-liner leave," Adama ordered as he marched into CIC. His XO's eyes snapped up to meet his. One look shared between them was enough. Bill heard Saul's muttered swearing. Nodding his understanding, the Colonel grabbed the XO's headset and started issuing orders into it.

"Get me through to Armistice Station," Bill ordered Dualla. In the few moments he waited for the connection to be made, Bill felt like electricity was surging through him. Every nerve was ignited. His muscles tensed, ready to act. Blood surged through his veins at the impending catastrophe. Outwardly, he remained stoic and calm, bracing his hands on the Tactical Table while he waited.

"No response, sir, just static," Dualla reported, puzzled. With all the people who were supposed to be currently on the station, why was there no response at all? She wondered. Bill let out the breath he'd been holding. Their President's peace had already failed.

"Get me Secretary Hector," Bill growled. Dualla nodded and began trying to place the call. After a few moments, the line connected through to Fleet Headquarters. Bill put the comm unit to his ear, but there was too much static on the line for him to understand what was happening there. Bill was about to speak when Hector beat him to the punch.

"Admiral," Hector began. "It's too late. The bombs are already falling. Cylon's aren't showing up on DRADIS." Bill heard shouting in the background. "Adama, save as many as you..." the line went dead.

Dualla looked up at him, fear in her brown eyes.

…

Stealth technology allowed Cylon raiders to park themselves alongside each Battlestar gathered at the armistice line completely unseen. Before their Commanders even had time to respond to blaring radiation alarms, the Cylons nukes were armed and detonated. Most of the Colonial Fleet fell in just a few frantic seconds. Perhaps, if the admirals and commanders had their CAPs flying, a lucky pilot could have seen the darkly plated enemy ships pushed into their space, but President Adar ordered them to stand down, not wanting to antagonize the Cylons. In the end, it was over in less than a minute.

Deeper, in the heart of Colonial space, high over the Twelve Colonies, the dark ships circled. The Cylon stealth raiders fired nuclear warheads down onto the twelve planets - a rain of death. In the void of space, the Cylons couldn't hear the screams of their human enemies. From their orbits, they eradicated humanity in a soundless ease. Flash. Flash. Flash. High in the skies, each nuclear blast could be seen.

On the planets, humanity heard the booms and felt the rush of wind before being slammed with a blaze of radiation. The air was heavy with the smell of burnt flesh, and smoke hung in a haze which turned the air orange. Their cities became skeletons and wastelands. Streams ran into the oceans, turning all water into one large pool of corruption and death. An oppressive heat rained down like the breath of Thanatos.

Terrified at the sight of the mushroom clouds and hearing their great cities fall around them, humanity ran. The fleeing multitudes of humans, their hearts failing at sight of Armageddon, were tossed and flung like rag dolls, to be entombed or engulfed. Billions of imperfect but beautiful lives came to an end.

The Fleet was powerless. The enemy didn't appear in DRADIS, and the defense grid couldn't offer any protection. Lucky viper pilots were able to get visual ID on the enemy and shoot them down, but they were quickly overwhelmed. Humanity, despite their technology and their numbers, found themselves hopelessly, hopelessly outmatched. It was over quickly for most of them.

The stealth raiders hunted and killed each traced of humanity they could find.

...

In her chamber, the Hybrid spoke.

"Seized by God, they cry in the dark of the light. Mists of dreams dribble on the nascent echo and love no more. Their ships cannot see us. Blind in the night they don't see danger until it is too late. Love outlasts death. Two leaders will rise.

Progress reports arriving. The farms of Aerilon are burning. The beaches of Canceron are burning. The plains of Leonis are burning. The jungles of Scorpia are burning. The pastures of Tauron are burning. The harbors of Picon are burning. The cities of Caprica are burning. The oceans of Aquaria are burning. The courthouses of Libran are burning. The forests of Virgon are burning. The Colonies of Man lie trampled at our feet."

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: It is reassuring to hear that people are enjoying my first fanfic.  
> I’d love to hear what ya’ll thought of the chapter! *Evil grin*  
> Some dialogue taken from BSG the series and the Plan.


	39. This has Happened Before

Colonial Space

"Attention, all Colonial units. Cylon attack underway. This is not a drill." The message repeated, broadcasting on all Colonial Military frequencies.

Colonial Heavyliner 897 - Docked in Galactica

Laura cursed her body for making her feel so… weak. Her head lolled back on the headrest as the exhaustion from the day caught up to her. Groaning, a wave of sickness and helplessness nearly overwhelmed her. After a moment, the intensity of the feeling faded. It wasn't easy ignoring the curious looks Liam and Zak gave her or the worried face Billy wore. She drew in a ragged breath and looked out the window, turning her face away from them.

Why are we still docked? she wondered. They should have launched by now. Echoes of her visions danced at the periphery of her consciousness. It lurked like a sinister darkness that wanted to reach out and grasp them all in its claws; Laura could feel it coming. Stop! She ordered her mind to ignore her almost Delphian senses. A few deep breaths in and out helped her keep her poised, calm facade. Then the sound of someone marching past several rows of seats before stopping by them caught her attention.

"Madame Secretary, Galactica Actual would like to talk to you," Captain Russo relayed, standing over the four seated passengers: Laura, Billy, Zak, and Liam. Laura's brows furrowed, but she stood, motioning for her children to stay put. She followed the Captain through the docked heavyliner and into the cockpit. Russo's friendly co-pilot handed her a headset.

"Roslin," she answered formally out of habit; it was standard practice until she knew whether the line was secure or not.

"Cylons have launched their attack against the Colonies," Bill immediately reported, almost dispassionately.

"No," Laura breathed, bracing herself against the heavyliner's control panel. She closed her eyes and felt an icy chill race along her spine. Her body felt as though she were falling, but she listened as Bill reported the little bit he'd learned from Hector before the line went dead. The Cylons, despite having no backdoor into the Defense Mainframe or Fleet Battlestars, had still managed to commit Armageddon. She focused on keeping her expression neutral, the small act helping her feel at least a little in control.

As she knew he would, Bill explained that he was taking Galactica to Ragnar Station. The contacts he'd maintained in the Fleet knew to fall back there for a regroup. The Fleet, what remained of it, would do no good getting picked off one by one.

"We'll stay and conduct rescue operations," Laura said, knowing that's what she needed to do, just as she had last time. Her part in gathering survivors had made it easier for humanity to willingly follow her once—it would again. She'd been their savior, willing to risk her own life to guide them away from sure destruction. Hearing the beginning of her husband's protests, she cut him off. "There are people who will need our help. It's our responsibility." Her tone was firm and had a hard edge to it. She heard his deep inhale of breath over the line and knew he was debating if arguing with her would do any good.

"Gather as many as you can, but you get yourself to Ragnar, understood?" he ordered, trying not to think of how she and Lee had nearly died last time. It was moments like this where loving a woman who couldn't help but serve others despite the risk was damn painful. She wasn't giving up; she had the guts to do what was right even when anyone else would run away. So, despite the ache he felt in his heart, strong enough to make him feel as if his chest might implode, he let her go. Galactica's Viper Squadron would stay to protect the gathering Fleet, and his Raptor crews would help search for survivors.

"Laura…"

"I'll see you at Ragnar," she promised, cutting off his goodbye. There were thousands of things they wanted to say to the other, but they already knew everything important.

Part of her had always known, since the moment she'd awoken, that this day would come again. She thought of her children sitting back in their seats. Zak. They'd already saved one person, and there would be others spared. Just save someone, and then move onto saving the next someone, she told herself.

Boomer's Raptor

If her Cylon brothers and sisters were watching, they would know her for the traitor she was. Along with the rest of the pilots, she launched her raptor. Once in space, Sharon had a clear shot on Roslin's ship. Taking a deep breath, she looked at the heavyliner, the raptors in space, and the vipers. Her choice.

Helo's warm voice relayed the first set of coordinates to her, and Boomer angled her bird away from the heavyliner. Following their new heading, she went in search of human survivors.

CIC Galactica

"Action stations. Action stations. Set Condition One throughout the ship. This is not a drill."

The Battlestar's blaring alarm wailed electronically along the corridors, leaping out from the corners, echoing everywhere. It sent adrenaline racing through the blood of the crew.

In CIC, Adama watched the DRADIS screen show the launch of Colonial 798. He tensed at the sight of the small blip moving away from Galactica's protection. It went against his instincts to let them go, but they had responsibilities. Besides, no one was safe anywhere anymore.

More little blips filled the screen. Vipers. Raptors. Search-and-Rescue birds. Some immediately moved off in different directions, their pilots and ECOs having pulled up last known positions of as many civilian ships as they could. With a surge of pride, Adama watched the viper squadron take a tactical formation around the heavyliner. He'd trained them well.

A moment later, he raised the heavy comm unit and spoke, hating how familiar each word sounded.

"This is the Admiral. Moments ago, this ship received word that a Cylon attack against our home worlds was underway..." He paused, letting his words sink in. Shocked, frightened expressions faced him from each of the crewmen in CIC. These were children who'd never seen combat; they'd been raised in the sunshine of the years of peace. Thrust into the darkness, they blinked at him slowly, trying to believe what they were seeing and hearing.

Adama continued speaking in measured tones, like a father reassuring his children. They were trained, he reminded them. They were ready. He looked around the CIC, meeting the eyes of almost everyone. This was what they had to do, meet their fears head on. And Adama? He had to be strong so that they could be strong.

Colonial 798

Liam pressed his face to the portholes of the ship, watching the vipers circle around them. There was a distant explosion, but the flames quickly consumed the escaping air of the ship before dying in the vacuum of space. One Cylon down, Liam thought. He felt someone come stand behind him, and an arm wrap around his shoulders. Turning, he looked at his mother, his sixteen-year-old frame now slightly taller than her… when he wasn't bent down to look out the window at the grim spectacle.

"Are you scared, mom?" he asked. Laura's grip on her son tightened as she looked into his ashen face. His elbows were pressed into his sides, making him look smaller than he was. So young, Laura thought, resting her head against his in motherly reassurance.

"Of course. I think anyone would be, but we just gotta keep going," she said. We must be strong. If we're not, who else will be? Laura thought. Her son nodded his understanding, but Laura felt him tremble. She pressed a comforting kiss against his hair. She had to be strong, for her son if nothing else.

"We don't give up; we rise up against the odds," Liam said, quoting his father. We rise up against the odds until one day death is proud to take us, Laura mentally finished her husband's old quote. She smiled at her son, but felt the others on the ship watching, taking in the scene. The last thing they needed was to see the senior-most government official present start shaking and breaking.

"Madame Secretary," Captain Russo said softly, coming up to them and handing her a printout. Laura took a deep breath and looked at the paper. Seeing that it was exactly as she had thought and feared, she wept inwardly, but pushed the despair away. She read the printout: the whole line of succession.

0\. President Richard Adar… Presumed Dead.

1\. Vice President Daniel McCree… Presumed Dead.

She took in more of the names, and the adrenaline surged through her leaving a sour taste in her mouth.

4\. Secretary of State Sam Coulson… Presumed Dead.

5\. Secretary of Defense Kenneth Hector… Presumed Dead.

These were people she'd known and worked with for years. Colleagues. Friends. She could easily picture their faces.

Presumed dead. Presumed dead. Presumed dead.

22\. Quorum Delegate John Lancie… Presumed Dead.

33\. Quorum Delegate Mae Archer… Presumed Dead.

Then there was her name. Her heart hammered in her chest, and there was a ringing in her ears.

Secretary of Education Laura Roslin… Confirmed Alive

At the end of the page there was a simple proclamation.

"According to the Articles of Colonization per section 35, article 17 of the Emergency Continuity of Government, Laura Roslin is named President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol."

Laura felt her role slipping into the fibers of her being once again. The pressure. The weight. A burden so heavy she could feel it trying to physically bend her spine. She briefly envied her husband who had never had to stop playing soldier.

"We'll need a priest," she said, and her voice was soft. She squared her shoulders and looked at Captain Russo, who stared at her wide-eyed. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. What words could he find that could fit the situation? What phrase fit the catastrophe? He finally nodded before heading off in search of Elosha.

"Mom?" Liam asked. Laura licked her lips and tried to find the words to explain. Her son's eyes grew wider as he realized what was going to happen. This wasn't supposed to happen to his mom, he thought shivering. This was something they were supposed to learn about in civics class, and then for the students to laughingly imagine the jolly Secretary of Housing and Urban Development becoming president or, gasp, the kind Secretary of Education. It wasn't supposed to actually happen. Liam wanted to scream at the gathering press to go away, to leave his mom alone. But the media crews who'd been aboard Colonial 978 on assignment to cover Galactica's decommissioning trickled into the room anyway. After a wordless exchange from her aide, Billy stepped over and drew Liam away from the circus.

Laura felt the sting of tears in her eyes. She'd have liked her children to have lived in the safety of the Colonies. Liam was so kindhearted and earnest; how did an innocent like him deserve this? She wanted him, Zak, Lee, Kara, and Billy to be surrounded by the feeling of wind and sun on their skin, not filtered air and artificial gravity. She thought of Earth briefly: it would be another long and dangerous journey to get there.

Liam watched the crowd part for Elosha, the nice priest who had officiated at the decommissioning ceremony. She'd patiently answered many of his curious questions on religion, a topic Liam had noticed his mother stayed away from. With a strange fascination, he looked at the sacred scrolls held in her hands which she slowly unfurled. Cameras and microphones trained on Elosha and his mother, to witness the transfer of presidential power. It was just like his civics class had taught him.

"Please raise your right hand and repeat after me." Liam watched as his mom raised her hand and for a moment it trembled but then became steady. He stared at the worn gold band adorning her ring finger; it didn't match her wedding band, but like it, she never took it off. Liam could almost feel the weight of the sadness weighing down everyone in the room, but watched his mom stand up as straight as possible.

"She's going to be OK," Billy whispered in his ear. "We're going to be OK.

He listened to his mother echo after the priest, her voice quaking just a little. "I … Laura Roslin… do now avow and affirm that I accept the office of the President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol…" For a moment, Liam wanted to be a little boy again, sitting on her lap and watching movies together snuggled in her loving arms. He wanted his father to come back and take him, his brothers, and his mother away to a cabin by a lake—like in the memory of his favorite vacation. But Lee was with Kara in their vipers around this ship. His father was probably going into battle. Zak had set up a triage center in the cargo hold of the heavyliner. He was watching his mother assume the presidency due to the government's doomsday backup plan.

"I will protect and defend the sovereignty of the Colonies with every fiber of my being." He listened to his mother's strained voice on those last words, and the weight of the responsibility she was taking on hit him like a rockslide. He wanted to go home, but the world he knew was gone. It was his mother who was going to lead them through the valley of darkness.

Boomer's Raptor

When the attack began, the government ordered a full stop on all civilian vessels. Throughout their space, hundreds of ships became stranded in solar system as their home ports were vaporized into oblivion. They hung in the cold, dark abyss of space listening to reports of their worlds being reduced to rubble, filth, and debris. Each ship was a stranded island of fear and uncertainty, their hope slowly draining.

Sometimes, the SAR raptors made it to them first. Sometimes the Cylons beat them, and only a wreckage remained. Many ships were lost, some were damaged, some were losing power.

Sharon had relayed jump coordinates to several scared and stranded Colonial ships while those with no FTLs cruised toward Roslin's gathering fleet. It would be more efficient to jump to Ragnar, but they needed to get as many people out of the non-FTL-capable ships as possible. Finding the Tylium ship again was a huge relief, and she sent their new friends to the rendezvous.

After that, everything had gone to hell for Sharon Valerrii. Despite the lack of enemy contact on DRADIS, she and Helo came under fire from an enemy combatant. Boomer managed to hide them in a debris field and cut the power. She noted the silhouette of a heavy raider when it flew in front of the sun and kept her eyes trained on the ship until it flew out of range.

Alarms blared, and Helo reported an air and fuel leak. Taking a deep breath, Boomer knew what she had to do. Angling their raptor toward the nearest planet, she set a course, glancing behind her at Helo and feeling her heart hammering in her chest. She had a bad feeling leaving him behind would happen again.

Galactica

Adama's voice echoed through the corridors.

"Preliminary reports indicate that a thermonuclear device in the fifty-megaton range was detonated over Caprica City thirty minutes ago." Though Adama could not see it from where he stood, all through the ship, shock waves reverberated among the crewmembers. Many of them had family, friends, and other loved ones in the city and the surrounding region. Caprica City. Their shining capitol. It was too shocking to grasp, and yet their Commanding Officer continued, listing the planets that had been hit.

Deck crews slowed as they tried to wrap their mind around the sheer number of casualties. The dead would number in the millions, they realized. A darkness seeped into their souls, slowly swallowing all their hopes and dreams.

"Mourn the dead later," Adama commanded them. They worked on trying to get the birds, originally meant to be pieces in Galactica's museum, ready for launch. Mark II and III Vipers, Wild Weasel Raptors all were readied for launch while reserve pilots reported for duty. Suddenly, it seemed almost miraculous that they were carrying so much extra equipment and a full crew complement.

CIC

Adama studied the different reports he was receiving, quickly absorbing the information. Unlike last time, their ships weren't falling like someone had flipped a switch and turned the power off. Instead, reports indicated the enemy wasn't appearing on DRADIS and only visual ID from viper and raptor pilots were able to warn of incoming attacks. He frowned, wondering what new trick the bastards had up their sleeve.

Behind him he heard Gaeta mumbling furiously to himself as he plotted the faster-than-light jump to Ragnar Station. Tigh was ordering engineering to prepare. At his side, Petty Officer Dualla delivered yet another printout. Her eyes were sad and her face tense.

"Priority message, sir," she reported. Reading the newest report, Adama felt the blood drain from his face. He pulled off his glasses, working through the million thoughts that assaulted him. After a deep breath, Adama raised his voice to make his own announcement.

"Admiral Nagala is dead. Battlestar Atlantia has been destroyed. So has the Triton, Solaria, Columbia… the list goes on," he said, unable to read the whole casualty report. It was almost everyone. He lowered his head. How? They'd prepared. The Fleet was de-networked. Battlestars were overhauled and ready. Raising his head, he met Tigh's eyes. He could read the support in his best friend's gaze.

"Send a message to all the Colonial military units, Priority Channel One. Message begins: Am taking command of fleet."

Ragnar Station

As the ship jumped to Ragnar, Tigh felt grateful that this disaster wasn't as bad as it could be. His wife was in his quarters, safe. They'd jumped to Ragnar quickly and thus there was no battle and no fire. He hadn't condemned almost a hundred people to death from his order to seal the bulkheads. He wasn't having to comfort his friend who believed his son dead. Things were different but so similar.

Ragnar Anchorage was an unmanned station, suspended in the upper atmosphere of the gas giant Ragnar. A remnant from the First Cylon War, it had been largely abandoned by the Colonial Fleet. Until a certain group of people had remembered the future and decided to prepare for the apocalypse—just in case. Then it became an incredibly useful depot for them.

Above Ragnar, a few Colonial ships had already gathered, an echo of the once great Colonial Fleet. The Battlestars Valkyrie and Daedalus limped through the sky, their hulls marred with scorch marks. Soon after Galactica's jump, Battlestar Prometheus joined them in the storm as well. On the other side of Ragnar, Battlestar Yashuman was currently docking with the station.

Five Battlestars. Hell of a lot better than one, Tigh and Adama thought. A few Escort ships patrolling the area added a little fuel to the fire of hope. Other ships dotted the screen, a few piloted by old friends: a few extra raptors, a marine transport, and some civilian vessels. One of them sent a message to Galactica, 'I hate it when you're right. –Coker.' Bill had smiled briefly at the message.

The Commanders of the other Battlestars immediately deferred to the newly arrived Admiral as protocol dictated, grateful to have a hero of the First Cylon War present to take command. Adama stayed in CIC to communicate with the other Battlestars, while Galactica carefully docked at Ragnar Station. The storm's currents threatened to throw the ship out of the control of its helmsman, but she stayed steady.

Commander Yar, CO of the Battlestar Yashuman, reported that no Cylon presence had been detected around or in the station. Adama frowned, feeling a strange combination of unease and relief at the lack of a gun wielding Leoben to greet them. Satisfied his people were safe, Adama sent crews into Ragnar Anchorage himself now. It was good to know his people had caught a break and were left to work in peace.

The warehouse was chaotic with activity. A strange surge of hope swelled through the ranks of the remaining Colonial Military as they inventoried and transported the crates and large containers crammed into Ragnar. The crewmen flashed their beams around, finding munitions symbols and caution messages in large letters. Forklifts hauled away large pallets, preparing to distribute the ordinance among the Battlestars and Escort ships. Quickly but carefully, the eager knuckledraggers grabbed everything that was still of use.

But it wasn't just ammunition stored there. An almost incomprehensible number of military rations were squirreled away in its cargo holds. Different medicines, which Cottle was already yelping about how they must be stored in a climate-controlled environment, were almost overflowing. The crew checked every nook and cranny for anything and everything they could find for possible use on the ship, their hopes increasing with each discovery.

Colonial One

Laura met with another captain whose crew was being transferred to an FTL-capable ship along with any useful materials and supplies its crew could grab. The captain was reluctant to abandon the liner itself, wailing about how much money had been invested in the ship. He was being firmly chastised by the new President for putting a price on his own survival.

Resources. Fuel. Food. Water. Clothing. Space. Laura tried to take on the weight of her responsibility as President again. It felt like she was drowning. Hundreds of thousands of people teetering on the brink of despair and panic. Sharon had returned, bringing with her a raptor full of children, and telling her Helo had stayed behind so that the last children could have a seat. Laura knew the tears in her eyes were real, and told her it was time for her to take a break. At least he hadn't given his seat to Baltar, Boomer muttered before curling up in a corner of the heavyliner.

"Madame President, Apollo is asking to speak with you," Captain Russo said. Laura nodded and moved into the cockpit, her body feeling almost numb at this point.

"M…" Lee cleared his throat. Would he ever know what to call his stepmother? "Madame President, I don't think we should stay here much longer. CAP has taken care of a few incoming raiders, but they've stopped coming." Laura clenched her fists. The Cylons were trying to mop up the rest of humanity, the Colonies having now been finished off. They would fail.

"You think they could be regrouping," Laura realized. Regrouping, and coming at them en masse with a force they wouldn't be able to push back with just a viper squadron.

"At some point, we need to go," Lee said in a strong and confident voice, as if they weren't weighing human lives in the balance. And I know they're coming, Laura thought. The Cylons would come, eventually with enough force to wipe out the assembled Fleet. There was a ringing in her ears again. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Have the ships prepare for jump," Laura ordered.

"We'll have the Vipers land on the Rising Star, she has the room on her hangar deck," Lee said.

"Count down the jump when you've all landed, Lee," she said softly.

"Yes, sir," he said, and signed off on the comm.

Laura walked cold with regret and remorse toward her seat. Billy was there organizing reports for her, while Liam had curled up in a chair and was trying to sleep. After a couple of minutes, the comm exchanges turned frantic. Glancing at her son, Laura wished she'd had them turn it off. It had been helpful to hear of new ships coming in, but now her ears were ringing with the sound of desperation and fear. Why? Why them? Why us? Why me? Laura thought. Her head spun as Lee started the count.

Out the window, a series of flashes caught the attention of several passengers. Laura felt her heart in her throat when three large flashes lit up the sky next. Chaos erupted over the comm channels at the sight of Cylon Basestars. The despair surged as people begged not to be left behind. I've saved as many as I can, I've saved as many as I can, I've saved..., Laura repeated to herself but felt a tear run down her cheek. She heard Lee keeping the count steady.

"One… Mark."

"I hope you people rot in hell for this!"

Galactica

"I'm getting Colonial signals," Dualla reported. Adama and Tigh felt a surge of relief, but Tight still narrowed his eyes and demanded confirmation. Better safe than sorry. In fact, he marched over toward the comm station and looked over the console, wanting to see it with his own eyes. "Confirmed, sir. Incoming ships are friendly."

Adama watched as the DRADIS screen lit up with over a hundred signals. Wow, he thought. She did good.

"The lead ship is requesting permission to come alongside, sir. They say…" Dualla hesitated, listening closely, "they say they have the President of the Colonies aboard." Tigh turned to look at Adama and raised an eyebrow. I'm not dealing with her this time, his expression said.

"Grant their request," Adama ordered. "Have them dock in the landing bay, and have the President escorted to the briefing room."

...

Billy Keikeya looked up from the reports he was organizing, as Laura Roslin paced the room. She was rubbing her forehead, trying to ease the massive headache that had formed.

"I'm assuming you aren't going to get into a fight with Colonel Tigh this time,'' he said in a low voice, trying to lighten the tension surrounding her. Laura rolled her eyes.

"You've definitely got more cheek this time," she muttered.

"Younger and wiser," Billy said, returning his attention to the reports. He'd relaxed significantly after hearing his sisters had survived, while Laura had tensed upon learning that Baltar had managed to get on board a departing ship.

Before Laura could think of a suitable retort to Billy, the hatch door opened, and Bill Adama stepped over the threshold. The second their eyes met, they were moving toward the other. For a moment, there was no pretense toward decorum as they met in a tight embrace. Only then did they let themselves fully acknowledge how worried they'd been about the other. Bill closed his eyes and breathed in the warm scent of her. His grip around her waist tightened as he experienced a moment of euphoria at her return and knew she felt the same way.

After a moment, and with a great deal of reluctance, Laura slipped out of his arms.

"Gathered as many as I could and got to Ragnar," she said, her voice nearly a croak. Bill searched her face, reading the exhaustion and heartache there. She looked bone weary and in need of rest.

"We've loaded all the supplies from Ragnar," he said, trying to give her something positive to think about. "With all those requisitioned supplies you got 'for the museum' already onboard, we're in okay shape."

"Did something right there," Laura muttered, thinking of the supplies Jack, Bill, and she had managed to stockpile.

"We're not even getting reports of fights. After the disaster at Armistice Line, there were a few skirmishes. It was so fast this time. The Fleet, what's left of it, has fallen back here. Five Battlestars, and a few escort and support ships."

"It's time to run," Laura sighed. We're running because there's hope for the future; there are hundreds of ships out there, and a civilization that can be saved, she comforted herself mentally.

Adama tugged her closer and rested his forehead on his wife's. "We'll get through this. We'll find a new home again. We can do this together just like last time."

"So, I don't have to argue with you about running."

"Not this time," he chuckled. "'We need to get out of her and start having babies,'" he said, repeating her old words to her. At the troubled look on Laura's face, Bill sighed, knowing the wound of not having another child was still fresh to Laura.

"I'm sorry. I know you wanted…" Laura touched his chest lightly, cutting him off.

"It's alright. But, it's time to get out of here," she said. Hearing movement from Billy, they remembered they had an audience. Laura gave her aide a look over the rim of her glasses, and the boy blushed before looking down at his reports.

They both made their way to the hatch, stepped through, and heading towards CIC.

Escape

The rag-tag fleet was moving. Galactica led the way out through the storm of Ragnar's atmosphere. Her sister Battlestars tactically spread out among the Fleet. Lightning flashed across the sky while the ships moved along their carefully plotted route that would keep the fleet hidden as long as possible from the Cylons whom Starbuck had discovered were waiting for them.

Only in the days of humanity's exodus from Kobol had there been a Fleet such as this. There were ships of every size and description. A medical frigate, mining ships, a tylium refinery, shipping freighters, passenger liners, botanical cruisers. A motley gang of survivors.

Galactica approached the outer limits of the storm. The warship took position with her sisters at the jump point, protecting the Colonial Fleet, which was able to execute their jumps from behind the protective stance of the Battlestars. The Cylons detected them easily, but the Colonials only saw the Basestars on DRADIS… several of them.

From the Battlestars, Vipers shot outward in a frantic formation, opening fire on the approaching raiders they had visual ID on. Fighters dodged and swerved, engaging the enemy. Ships exploded, friend and enemy alike. Spinning. Twisting. Despite the presence of several Battlestars, there were more Cylons than there were Vipers in the skies. Clearly, they'd long been preparing for war.

Starbuck didn't notice when the last civilian ship jumped away. She was too filled with rage. Fire. Hot burning anger that sought to harm her enemies. She let it flood her senses, let it cover the despair at being trapped in the nightmare again. What had she ever done to the Cylons?

"Starbuck, Galactica. What… you hear?"

"WHAT?" she shouted, trying to make out the words through the static and the debris hitting her ship.

"What do you hear?"

"Nothing but the rain."

"Then grab your gun and bring the cat in."

The final vipers hit the deck in a blazing combat landing just as a storm of missiles and raiders converged on the injured Battlestars. There was no way the Valkyrie or Prometheus could survive this final bombardment unleashed by the Basestars. They jumped away in time.

The survivor fleet was gathered around the scorched and battered Battlestars.

Funeral

The bodies of those who had fallen were lined up with military precision at the front of the hangar bay, not as many as last time, but there were casualties in the battle with the Cylons. More numerous were the helmets also lined up, representing the pilots who'd died in space, their bodies unrecoverable.

At the front of the room stood Elosha. Her songs and prayers echoing through the room and out to the Fleet on talk wireless. Standing before her in person was a multitude assembled from the crew of Galactica, the Commanders of the other Battlestars, and representatives from many of the other ships. Dead center stood William Adama and Laura Roslin side by side. The people looked to their leaders, who stood tall and strong. They were the calm at the center of a hurricane.

"So say we all," Elosha said, finishing her prayers and songs. Her voice sounding like a whisper even though everyone could hear her.

"So say we all," the disheartened, weary survivors muttered. Adama turned around to take in the broken-looking rabble that now was all that was left of humanity. His insides clenched. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't give this speech again, making lofty claims that fell at his and Laura's feet to fulfill. He moved out in front of the gathering again, looking up and down the rows. Why did he have to do this again? He saw Laura watching him, and her slight nod. Her permission. Her acceptance. He repeated the words again in a firm voice. The assembly echoed his words, just a little louder. Louder and louder until he had their voices rising together in solid refrain:

"So say we all!" Adama walked up alongside the first row of the fallen, gazed down at the flag-covered bodies, and looked back at his people and at Laura. "Are they the lucky ones?" he asked, his voice booming across the room. There was some stirring, as people considered his words. He continued speaking distantly familiar words to him. They needed hope, and he knew he could give it to them.

"'Life here began out there.' Those are the first words of the sacred scrolls, handed down to us by the Lords of Kobol, many centuries ago. And those words made something perfectly clear: We are not alone in this universe. The Thirteenth Tribe left Kobol in the early days. They traveled far and made their home upon a planet called Earth, which circles a distant and unknown star." Adama let that last phrase hang in the air for a moment, before saying, "We're going to find it. It won't be an easy journey. It'll be long, and arduous. But we will find a new home." He knew he was being vaguer than he was last time, but he was walking the line between offering hope and making too-lofty promises. After the disaster of Earth 1.0 last time, he couldn't make himself promise Earth to the Fleet in no uncertain terms. Even if he knew the coordinates.

"Dismissed!" An enthusiastic cheer went up, as the tension was finally released.

Commander's Quarters

Laura pushed her husband's, now their, quarter's hatch open and stepped inside. She'd been working in the briefing room until Billy ordered her to go rest. They were desperately trying to get a headcount and a complete list of their not-so-meager supplies. Colonial One would become her office again, the state ship of the remainder of humanity, but she'd already been aboard Galactica for the funeral.

Inside the quarters, Liam was already passed out on the couch with a blanket tucked around him. Bill was behind his desk, paperwork scattered around him and glasses perched on the edge of his nose. He hadn't heard her come in, so for a moment she studied him. Thick salt and pepper hair, scars along his face, and deep worry lines. To her, ruggedly handsome in his own unique way and now looking like the man she'd originally met. She moved over to him.

"Bill," she said, catching his attention. She gave him a tired smile. "We need sleep," she murmured.

"We tried," Bill sighed, looking up at her. The soft light of his quarters suffused her hair with a fiery glow while the lines around her eyes creased with exhaustion and worry. Here we are again, he thought. Looking into her eyes, he saw the fire there and it comforted him. They'd fight on together, side by side as they had always done.

"We have to move forward. Despite the pain and what's been lost," Laura said for her sake as much as his. Taking his hand and tugging him out of his chair. Sometimes being the one still alive is a bigger curse, Bill mused following her. "Everything has its time, and everything ends."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: But, they forgot to supply Ragnar with a white board...oh the lack of humanity! J/K  
> Well, we are now firmly into the show. Admittedly, it took longer than I wanted. Whoops! Sorry!  
> Comments are so, so, so appreciated.


	40. Secrets and Hesitation

Jump 180

Under her feet, the black and white tiles formed a chess board pattern which Laura moved across. The dark, empty school hallway sent a chill down her spine. She didn't want to be there, she thought, wrapping her arms around her chilled body. Hesitantly, she approached a door with the name 'Ms. Roslin' tacked next to it. At the sight, Laura pursed her lips. She wanted to dream of fields, trees, and redheaded girls - she sighed in quiet protest at being dragged to her old classroom again.

Walking into what had once been a familiar, comforting space, Laura caught sight of Elosha sitting behind her old desk. Flickering candles made the air around her glow as the clergywoman flipped through the pages of the sacred scrolls. Laura kept her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she moved over to Elosha.

"You still haven't read the Pythian Prophecy?" she asked without looking up at Laura yet sensing her approach. At Laura's scoff, Elosha peered up at her, searching her face as if also examining her soul. "The Gods do not force us, Laura. They guide and instruct. You know this. You haven't completely lost your faith. But your kind and caring heart doesn't want to be hurt or to see those around you hurt."

"Alright. I'll admit, I've seen enough to believe there's higher powers out there. I wouldn't have Bill or my sons right now if not for some sort of intervention. What I don't understand is…why can't my fate be my own?" Laura asked, trying to ignore the feeling of how close death always felt at the mention of prophecy.

"Fate and choice are often one and the same, Laura," the woman sighed, giving her an enigmatic smile. Laura pursed her lips and tried to keep from shuddering. Elosha shook her head. "You're so determined to protect your husband from pain, from the fear of your death; it blinds you," Elosha said and watched as Laura shifted in front of her as if the truth made her uncomfortable. "I digress. I have news. More have received their memories," Elosha said.

"Billy remembers," Laura informed her.

"And you can guess which Lord of Kobol watches over him," Elosha replied, raising an eyebrow at Laura.

"Hermes. The right-hand God of Zeus and Hera. The messenger who also watched over traders and travelers," Laura guessed; Billy was her right-hand who helped her manage the civilian fleet. Elosha nodded and turned the scrolls around so Laura could examine the open page - a drawing of Hermes with his winged shoes and gold staff. When Elosha pushed forward the sacred scroll for Laura to get a better look, she recoiled from the text, tripping over a pile of abandoned books. As Laura fell to the floor, her body jolted awake.

Groaning, Laura lifted her head from the desk of her new executive office aboard Colonial One. The clock read 10 minutes left until their thirty-three minutes were up. Brushing her hair back, she glanced to her side and saw the whiteboard and the newly hung photo, "Lest We Forget." The photo was black-and-white showing a Colonial soldier dropping to his knees on Aerilon. Before him, the city of Eleusis burned, and looming dark clouds obscured the sun. It was the last photo taken on the Twelve Colonies, and it would remain on her wall; the enormity of the sorrow it represented creating an enduring memorial of the Colonial's loss.

"I remember that look. You're having visions again, aren't you?" Billy asked in a low whisper, looking at her from the other side of her desk. Laura rubbed a hand over her face; this was more agonizing than she remembered. Days without sleep, only catching the shortest of naps between jumps. Her bones felt heavy, as if she were physically wearing her sorrow, fear, and anxiety like a lead jacket around her body.

"I am," she replied after a moment.

"Does…does the Admiral know?" Billy asked nervously.

"You're forgetting where I lay my head at night," Laura stated and watched Billy blush. "Hard to keep many secrets from the person you're sleeping with," she said and cringed knowing that wasn't entirely true.

"What have you…"

"Mom?" Liam asked, and Laura motioned for Billy to stop the line of inquiry. She looked over at her son who had a mug in his hands. It took her longer than it normally would to realize he was giving her coffee.

She smiled at her darling boy; he was like a shining beacon that reminded Laura that things weren't so bleak – everything could be so much worse. Her son still had dirt from the Colonies on his shoes but was here trudging on and making the best of the situation with the rest of them. We'll find Earth again for you, Liam, Laura silently promised her son.

"Thank you," she murmured, accepting the coffee and the papers in Liam's outstretched hands.

Liam had been doing whatever he could around Colonial One to be useful without having been asked. He'd helped Billy sort piles of reports coming in, delivered papers to the different aides cramped in the office, and made sure there were rations to nibble at. He dodged around the constant flow of people coming in and out of the office and tried not to show how overwhelmed he felt at…everything. Laura let him help out, knowing it would keep her son distracted as he came to grips with all that had happened. Besides, Liam was the kind of boy who liked being useful - even though Billy had tripped over him several times.

"These are from Captain Russo - notes from some of the pilot's comm traffic. He says…he says some captains are talking about splitting off," Liam told his mother.

Laura frowned, looking at the report. These people had managed to survive the apocalypse only to throw away their best chance of survival with some foolhardy plan, she thought shaking her head. How could they be so short-sighted? Did they really think they'd make it very long on their own? Her heart was beating too quickly as she considered the report. Once the first Captain broke away, the Fleet would become a broken dam trying to retain water.

"The lone wolf dies while a pack survives," Laura sighed, wondering how she was supposed to convince a Fleet as large as this one to stay together. She'd have thought the protection of five Battlestars should do the trick, but she'd failed to account for how stupid individuals could be.

"Things are going to get better," Liam said. "Dad says it doesn't pay to get discouraged. I'm trying to remember that." Laura tried to remember when her son had grown up. It didn't seem so long ago that he was picking her flowers, reading on his father's lap, and believing everything his older siblings told him. When had he become wise?

Another aide stopped by and set some papers on her desk.

"Maybe there will be a paper shortage," Liam offered quietly, and even Billy chuckled at that.

"If only," Laura looked down at the reports, squinting through the hazy fuzz that was her vision. Looking at Russo's report, she wondered what she could do.

"Prepare for jump," the Captain said over the comms.

Jump 190

The Cylons new stealth technology made it impossible to detect when they jumped in. CAP alerted the Fleet to incoming enemy contacts days ago when they'd observed the flashes of incoming Cylons from the cockpits of their ships. The Fleet had jumped away right as the first civilian ship came under fire. Then they'd jumped again, and again. Over and over, again and again.

Many of the fleeing ships were damaged. Several were reporting problems with their FTL computers. Repair crews were doing the best they could while marines searched ships for tracking devices and stowed away Cylons. Perhaps it was lucky the people of the Colonies were aware of the human models; the population kept alert. After the first few jumps, Adama and Roslin had decided to play it safe; they'd ordered the Olympic Carrier evacuated, abandoning the passenger liner before jumping away. However, after thirty-three minutes, the Cylons appeared again anyway.

When the CAG reported incoming Cylons after they'd abandoned the Olympic Carrier, Adama felt his shoulders tense and his hands formed into fists on the tactical table. He'd felt completely disheartened. Their knowledge of the future wouldn't always be a shining path through the dark trees. He pushed against the incoming wave of hopelessness; if he lost himself to those feelings, he'd be useless to his people. That was unacceptable. He, Galactica, Colonial One, and Laura were the people's rallying points.

A voice crackled to life over the comm line as Adama was connected to the other Battlestar commanders.

"One of you boys wanna tell the Cylons it's not nice to stalk a lady?" Commander Yar asked, and Adama could hear the tired attempt at humor in her voice. Yar was like that. She was renowned as one of the biggest hard-ass commanders in the Colonial Fleet who delighted at having a wicked sense of humor. She kept people on their toes and at the top of their game.

"You're no frakkin' lady," Commander Dagon of the Prometheus snapped, and Adama barely kept from groaning out loud at his abrasive tone. Dagon was a less familiar name throughout the Colonial Fleet and, as Adama had quickly sensed, a less noble person than Yar.

The commanders of the five surviving Battlestars were like a set of chemicals that shouldn't be mixed; they were constantly in danger of setting each other off. At every interaction they were all waiting for an inevitable explosion. They were five very different personalities, five people who couldn't find any equilibrium amongst themselves other than following Adama. It was obvious to the Admiral that the surviving leadership had some severe wrinkles to iron out when they found the time. The exhaustion was making the problem worse, but they were doing their best to pull it together - the junior officers under their command needed hope and needed their leaders to work together.

"Hmph. So, rock bottom has a basement," Yar sighed. "At least I have you fine folks with me," she said, her Aerilon accent thick over the comm line on their conference call.

"Sitrep?" Adama cut in before any of the others could reply. Yar's levity was appreciated; he'd rather have commanders like Yar whose exhaustion manifested as borderline slap-happy than the murderously cranky attitude of Dagon. Their people needed to be uplifted right now, not pushed further down. However, they had business to discuss. Every ten jumps they checked in, exchanging reports on searches, casualties, and reports on damage. Each commander took a turn at giving a summarized briefing. More vipers down. Nervous exhaustion. No progress on upgrading DRADIS to detect Cylons.

Jump 201

"Hey, did we pass jump 200 yet?" Kara asked as she piloted her bird around the perimeter of the Fleet.

"201," Lee said from where he flew alongside her.

"Shit, now I've gotta wait 99 more jumps to have a nice whole number to celebrate!" she said with an almost maniacal laugh.

"Don't even joke like that!" Lee growled.

"Just needing a reason to celebrate being alive." Kara shifted, trying not to let her muscles cramp any more than they already had. From her first moment in a viper, she felt as if she'd been born to fly, but that didn't mean her body was meant to live in such a small space over the span of several days. She ached to be able to fully stretch out and take a run around Galactica.

"Or trying to find an excuse for a drink," Lee teased.

"Excuses are for dummies," Kara said.

Lee weaved silently through the Fleet beside Starbuck for a while, thinking. Excuses. How many had he hidden behind? How often had his pitiful justifications kept him from reaching his full potential. He could find justifications at the easy ways out he'd taken and the opportunities he'd missed.

Clarity hit him.

Lee could chalk it up to being overtired—the thoughts he was having about Kara. But there was a need invading his senses. The years stretched in his mind. How many opportunities had he wasted? He made a choice. No more excuses or mistakes.

"Kara?" Lee asked, knowing he was doing the right thing. He felt that to the depth of his soul.

"Yea, Lee?"

"Marry me?" he asked with his heart in his throat.

After a full minute of silence, Kara exploded in laughter. This was it. She'd finally tipped over into insanity. It just took a marriage proposal from Lee to finally do the trick.

"Kara?"

"You're serious?" she asked as her laughter subsided. A surge of emotions welled in her. "Marriage is a sacrament, Lee. A promise before the gods. It's… It's forever."

"I know."

Kara wanted to believe him. She really did. They'd been together for a while now, but there were still the forgotten years between them. Those missing years could come back to Lee: all the mistakes and heartache that had once proved to be an insurmountable mountain of baggage between them. And besides, marriage to her? Happily ever after didn't seem to be in Kara Thrace's special destiny. Getting married wouldn't suddenly fill her life with daisies and sunshine.

"This is crazy," she muttered. "Why, Lee?"

"It's the end of the world, Kara," Lee said. "And you're the most important person in it to me," he replied, piloting his viper in a smooth curve around the Astral Queen. He scowled at the sight of Tom Zarek's ship. "Excuses are for dummies. I'm not afraid of a life of craziness with you for however long the gods give us."

"OK," Kara replied, hearing the challenge in his voice and being too tired to argue. She wondered if they'd remember much of this patrol after they finally got sleep. They were currently wired and so high on stims that their skin was crawling and their minds… well, they'd clearly lost it. There's a level of tiredness that equates to insanity, and Kara was now sure they'd reached that point. Exhaustion, Cylons, and love would make a fool of anyone though.

In the cockpit of his viper, Lee smiled. Finally, something felt right. Every couple of minutes he'd managed to catch some sleep between jumps, he'd remembered more and more of a different timeline. A separate life seeped into his head, one that his parents and Kara had whispered about. As the memories came to him, Lee had the urge to do two things above all: hug Zak and love Kara.

He scoffed at the memories of his other life. So many mistakes but no one needed to know he remembered. He could simply be this timeline's Lee Adama with a father who was proud of him and a stepmother who loved him. This Lee didn't drown in guilt over Zak. He didn't lash out in righteous anger. No, Lee thought, he didn't want the memories pushing into his mind. He just wanted to not waste the new opportunity he'd been given.

Jump 220

"We've been put on notice," Commander Dagon said.

"What? What do you mean?" Asked Commander Pertinax.

"President Roslin denied my request to have additional medical personnel transferred to Prometheus. She's trying to tell us who's in control," he snarled, making his opinion of their new President clear from the tone of his voice.

"Civilians need medical attention too," Pertinax replied.

"Civilians aren't the ones piloting vipers. She's power mad. Are we really going to take orders from a schoolteacher?" Dagon asked.

"It's the law. She's the rightful president of the Colonies," Yar hissed, her joking attitude cast aside as she smelled the distinct odor of mutiny in the air. There were some things that were unacceptable. The Colonial Fleet was built on pride and honor. She'd be damned if she was part of any group that undermined those principles.

"Still a liability, but her ship's FTL has reported difficulty keeping up with the jumps…" Dagon muttered. At that Adama snapped.

"My wife, the President, is committed to ensuring the survival of our people," Adama said, letting the cat out of the bag concerning his relationship with the President. He and Laura had planned on handling the information with more finesse, but tired Admirals were often lacking in the finer points of diplomacy and finesse. "Just as we're dedicated to protecting the fleet. And an officer like you will know the Fleet rule on contemptuous language toward the President of the Colonies. Understood?" Adama asked, his voice as hard as steel as he referenced one of the Codes of Military Justice. Although, if he gave it some thought, that article and several others around it were designed to prevent active military officers from meddling in politics; it seemed ironic to invoke it now considering his marriage. Still, he wasn't ever going to tolerate an officer under his command openly hoping for Laura's death.

"Oh, I get it now. You're f…"

"Commander, I'd advise you to think carefully, very carefully, before you find yourself demoted to ensign," Adama growled in a low voice, cutting Dagon off. There was a flash of heat in his blood at the reminder of the danger his wife was in. People were frightened and angry right now. Hurt people often lashed out. "Remember who the real enemy is," he said as his fierce, unyielding protectiveness of Laura rose up in him. He would make selecting the President's Secret Service the next thing he did when this crisis was over. He'd already sent marines to Colonial One, despite his wife's protest. He would hand select the bodyguards for her Secret Service, ensuring her safety.

He pinched the bridge of his nose - being married to the President of the Colonies was going to make this experience very different than the timeline when he'd been her enemy, turned friend, turned lover.

Jump 230

"Admiral Adama. Sir, President Roslin's on the line," Dualla reported, gesturing toward the bulky comm unit at the tactical table.

"Adama," he said into the speaker, his voice sounding like it was being dragged over coarse gravel. He sounded as worn as he felt.

"Admiral, we have a problem. Two of the civilian ships decided to break away and make a run for it on their own. A third is threatening to do the same. I've tried negotiating with them," Laura said without preamble.

"If there's a captain that feels they can do better on their own, they are welcome to leave," Adama stated, his frustration mounting.

"That's unacceptable. Survival is a numbers game," she replied bluntly, and her tone made him feel as if she could be addressing a small child and not the Admiral of the Fleet.

"I'm not going to hold the civilian's hands and demand they walk together like they're kindergarteners on a field trip," Adama said in an angry voice. This wasn't the time or place to be pandering to the whims of needy civilians. He had enough to do with keeping the Cylons from obliterating the Fleet. On top of that was the need to discover how they were being tracked. And sleep. They all needed sleep. They were all tittering on the brink of insanity at the lack of sleep and relentless pursuit.

"And what happens when the Fleet starts completely fracturing?" she asked him. He could feel an old but familiar sensation; his hackles rising, signaling the beginning of one of their once infamous arguments.

"Isn't that an overreaction?" he asked, and he heard Laura's indignant scoff over the line.

"Cylons will pick off humanity bit by bit," Laura said. He didn't reply for a few long moments as he considered the options.

"I'll see what I can do," he conceded.

"Thank you," she said softly, and he could hear her exhaustion.

"Come to Galactica, Laura. Your ship's FTL computer…"

"I'm staying here," she said, bristling at the commanding tone he'd tried to use with her. Didn't he know better by now?

"Dammit Laura, why can't you consider your own safety?" he demanded, the lack of sleep let the irritation he felt bleed into his tone.

"I can't always hide on Galactica, Bill. There's work to be done," she whispered. She could almost feel the tension in his body over the phone, see the way his brows were furrowed, and how he clutched the receiver. She opened her mouth to promise to come home when the crisis was over, but her voice wasn't working. A few moments of the clock ticking its countdown passed and they both know they needed to sign off as their thirty-three minutes were soon up.

"Galactica out," Adama finally said.

Jump 238

"Sir, Fleet count is in," Dualla reported from her station. Adama turned and saw Dee rubbing her eyes and shaking her head before looking back down at her screen. The young woman was more drained than several others on the bridge. She had the responsibility of checking in every ship after every jump. It took nearly half the 33 minutes to corroborate that everyone had made it. 220 Civilian ships. "All civilian ships accounted for, but we're missing the Escort Ship Agamemnon."

There were any number of reasons for the missing escort ship. Left behind. Wrong coordinates. Computer Error. With how many rapid jumps they'd made back to back, it was a miracle they'd left no one else behind. Still, any loss weighed heavily on the remaining Colonial military.

"How many?" Colonel Tigh asked.

"1,478 souls," Dualla whispered.

Jump 239

After a couple of hours, the fleeing Colonials truly believed they'd caught a break.

When the Escort Ship Agamemnon unexpectedly jumped back to the Fleet, panic ensued. Alarms, which sounded like the horns of a juggernaut, blared unceasing through the metal corridors of the military ships.

Starbuck, Apollo, and Boomer flew toward the escort-class ship, trying to raise it on comms. They were met with complete radio silence and no signal lights.

The Agamemnon barreled toward the Fleet at full speed.

Adama, Tigh, Roslin, and Starbuck felt a sinking feeling in their guts. Roslin and Adama immediately ordered the Fleet to spool their FTLs. It would take a few minutes to escape though, and the Agamemnon was blazing toward them.

"The Cylons got to them," Starbuck murmured over the comm. Are we sure though? She thought. Are we absolutely sure?

"The ship poses a threat to us and we have to climate that threat," Laura said into the phone, feeling her hand tremble slightly. Her heart thundered in her chest and she could taste bile in her mouth. The fates of thousands once again in their hands. She never forgot the heavy toll ordering the destruction of the Olympic Carrier had taken on Captain Apollo.

"We'll evacuate the personnel and destroy the ship," Adama said, feeling the horrible déjà vu again. They'd done the right thing ordering the Olympic Carrier shot down so long ago, he'd always believed that. The needs of the many had to prevail.

"They're going to be in among Fleet in a minute," Starbuck said, looking at how fast the Agamemnon speed toward the Fleet.

"Radiological alarm," Dualla called from her station.

"Bill, it's a military ship," Laura said, officially handing over the call to him.

It was a military decision, so he made it.

When the decision to destroy the Agamemnon was handed down, Lee felt his insides clench. He repeated the number of doomed souls in his mind if he fired on the ship. His finger moved over the trigger. He ordered himself to press the button, but he couldn't do it. His mind wouldn't let go of the image of a piece of paper and the elegant cursive words 'Olympic Carrier'. Lee hesitated.

Beside him, Kara engaged with her guns, but one Viper against a Colonial Escort Class ship wasn't enough.

Agamemnon crashed into the Battlestar Yashuman, destroying both ships in a brilliant, blinding flash of white light.

The Cylons stopped following them.

Home

William Adama slumped on the couch in his quarters trying to find his sense of inner peace. After the destruction of Agamemnon and Yashuman, people had looked at him, trying to gauge his emotional state as if it were a ruler to measure their own reaction against. He'd no doubt everyone on Colonial One was doing the same to Laura. After it became clear the Cylons weren't following them, he finally went home. His quarters were supposed to be his retreat from the stress of commanding the Fleet and where the weight of humanity's survival could be lifted from his shoulders for a bit. It was taking far longer than usual for him to set aside the burdens of the day.

He heard the hatch open and without looking knew it was Laura who'd come home. An easy deduction. No one but his wife was allowed to just walk in. She lived here too now. It would be an adjustment, having somebody in his quarters all the time, someone who knew him as intimately as she did. Privacy was a thing of the past. There was no more hiding in his quarters; it was now shared space. That thought wasn't as intimidating as it once might have been. Home was Laura.

He felt the couch dip down next to him, and a head rest on his shoulder. He offered her a sip of his ambrosia, but she declined. Her silent presence beside him was like a balm to his weary soul. She reached over and entwined her fingers with his free hand, saying nothing as she brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles lightly. He never thought he'd end up with someone so warm and affectionate. There was no way he could have imagined how loving he and Laura could be; that's not who they were to the outside world.

Laura felt calmer once home with her husband. He was her anchor, the calm she missed when everything became too much. His hand was warm in her own, his fingers thick and strong and slightly calloused.

"Heavy losses today," Laura murmured as her thumb traced patterns over his knuckles.

"Where's Liam?"

"With Zak."

"I always say I don't navel gaze. A man lives with the choices he makes," Bill said, taking a sip of his ambrosia. He let it burn down his throat, feeling a small relief at the sensation.

"But we also need to learn from our mistakes," Laura countered, pointing out the flaw in his logic. "Life's not fair. Death isn't any fairer. You know that," Laura said, curling further into his side.

"We nearly came to blows over the comm today," Bill remembered.

"Exhaustion doesn't bring out the best in us. And…" Laura trailed off before looking up at her husband. "We're different people. Those differences that can draw us apart and cause us to fight, they are also what pull us together and make us such a good team. We just…need to find our balance again," Laura said.

"I don't want to lose my wife to this nightmare," Bill said, seeing how the pressure of leading the fleet could easily bleed into their marriage and rip them apart.

"Never," Laura promised.

"I'm so tired, I don't know if I can sleep," Bill said, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm going to go shave at least."

"I have a few reports to glance at before going to bed."

"Rack," Bill corrected and found himself on the receiving end of his wife's withering glare. A lesser man might have spontaneously combusted, but he chuckled and stood up, moving toward the head.

Laura pulled a few reports from her bag, needing to at least make sure there was nothing urgent in the papers Billy had handed her before she left Colonial One. Flipping through, she saw it was mostly ration distribution plans. However, seeing Baltar's name at the top of an incident report instantly made her blood boil.

"Oh my gods," she sighed, grating her teeth as she jumped to her feet, needing to pace around. Too fast, she realized. Her vision blurred. She was vaguely aware of the ground rushing up to meet her before her world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I won't be going episode by episode. Too much. But, I wanted to show how knowledge of the future and trying to make a better choice isn't always a good thing in this.
> 
> I'd love, love, love to hear what you thought. Drop me a comment.


	41. Her Dream

Death wasn't kind. William Adama knew that. He'd watched death snatch away who it could, when it could. All too often, it grabbed people who were far too young, far too good, and far too… needed. Loved. Death didn't care about any of that.

These dark thoughts invaded Adama's mind as he moved into the head desperate to shave, to do something to feel a little less miserable. In the wake of the destruction of the Colonies, the shadow of death loomed over the Fleet. An entire Battlestar gone. Commander Yar was dead. She'd been a good woman, a great leader. Even in the face of the Apocalypse, Yar refused to let the Cylons break her dauntless spirit. She'd carried on with a fierce determination, cracking jokes in the face of danger. One moment she and the thousands aboard Yashuman were alive and in the next they were gone. He dragged the razor across his face, running on autopilot while lost in thought. Why did one of their greatest assets to survive have to be one of the first to fall? And so senselessly? She and her crew should have gone out in a blaze of defiant glory against the enemy.

He looked in the mirror and saw a man who appeared weighed down. The tension felt like concrete in his veins, heavy and stiff; they hadn't averted the apocalypse and he couldn't keep safe those people they had saved. Twisting the faucet, he threw ice-cold water on his face. Keep it together, he ordered himself. He patted the towel over his face, the vague musk invading his nose. His thoughts turned to the woman waiting for him in his quarters. For her sake if nothing else, keep it together.

Feeling marginally better, he trudged out to the main cabin.

"Laura?" he called, looking around. The lamps were still on and gave the cabin a warm glow, but he didn't see his wife. Rubbing his tired, gritty eyes he looked around again. Then he saw her. "Laura!"

His heart clenched. Her crumpled form was sprawled out on the floor like a discarded rag-doll. In a single heartbeat, he was at her side and dropping to his knees. He snatched up her limp hand in his and searched desperately for a pulse. For a gut wrenching moment he found nothing. Her hand was like ice. Not again, Bill thought. Holding his breath, he moved his fingers along her wrist, searching again. He let out a sigh of relief when he found a thready pulse. She's alive.

He heard himself shouting for a marine and ordering them to get Cottle. The cold of the metal floor seeped into his body, but he was rooted to the spot beside her. He brushed the hair away from her face. She was so pale. His mind flashed back, remembering dirt slowly covered her ashen face in another time when he'd been forced to say goodbye. For a moment he could feel the weight of the rocks he'd carried and laid over her in a poor monument. He drew a ragged breath. It couldn't all happen again. She'd had surgery! Bill swallowed, remembering that she'd missed a few doctor's appointments. A sickening sense of familiarity creeped into the atmosphere. Dammit, Laura. Wake up and tell me I'm overreacting.

His pulse jumped when he saw her eyelids fluttering.

"Bill?" she asked in a hoarse voice. She groaned and peered up at him. "What happened?"

"You must have passed out on the floor," Bill said, noting how dazed and confused she looked. Banishing the images, he pulled his emotions back under his control. Respond don't react.

"I felt dizzy," she remembered, letting him carefully pull her up so she was resting her back against the couch. A second later, Cottle burst into the Admiral's quarters, immediately rushing to where they sat on the floor.

"Madame President?" Cottle asked, dropping his bag down on the table.

Bill explained finding her unconscious on the floor before Laura could pretend that she felt fine. When Doc Cottle mentioned dragging Laura down to sickbay for tests, the dam of restraint burst around Laura.

"Stop!" she croaked, shocking the two men into silence. "Just, stop." She exhaled heavily. "Jack, my medical folder is in the briefcase over there," she said, nodding at the black bag she'd deposited on the table earlier. "You should…you should have a look. Now, please." Laura's voice was quiet and resigned. "I...I need to speak with my husband for a minute."

She wore an expression on her face that made Bill feel as if someone was reaching into his chest and trying to yank his heart out. He looked at the woman he loved most in the world, waiting for her to pull his world out from underneath him.

"You said you were fine," Bill said.

"I…" Laura began. Unconsciously, she licked her lips nervously and squeezed his hands. "I am fine. I am. Bill… I'm pregnant."

His thoughts stuttered for a moment as the news stunned him into complete silence. His gaze flicked down to her stomach and then back up to her nervous eyes. She nodded as if to say he'd heard her right. A tear escaped and trailed down her cheek, and a scared smile tugged at her lips.

"Pregnant," she repeated. "No cancer. I'm OK."

"You are most certainly not 'OK'!" Cottle exclaimed, marching back over with a blue medical folder open in his hands. "I see what your doctor back on Caprica told you, young lady."

"Pregnant?" Bill asked, glancing between Cottle and Laura. He noticed his wife trying not to tremble under his intense gaze. "What's going on, Laura?"

"There are some… risks," she explained softly, breaking their eye contact and looking down at her hands clasped in his. Bill turned to Doc Cottle, demanding answers with a single commanding look. He got the answers he needed. Cottle explained the dangers and complications Laura was facing, while she recoiled further into the couch. He gruffly mentioned that post-menopausal women shouldn't even be pregnant to begin with and suggested following her Caprican doctor's advice. The knot in Bill's stomach was heavy as he turned back to Laura, whose face was awash with tears.

"I'm keeping the baby."

"There are significant dangers, Madame President. You and Bill need to think very carefully about this," Cottle said with as much gentle kindness as he could muster.

Bill watched Laura shake her head and knew any words of caution and warning would fall on deaf ears. There was a look of steely resolve in her eyes alongside the fear.

"I'm going to carry this child as long as I can, and I'm going to do everything I can to see to it that she's born," was all Laura offered.

Cottle shook his head. He demanded to see her tomorrow, no ifs, ands, or buts. At the knowledge she was pregnant, it was fairly certain she'd fainted from standing too quickly and not getting enough food or sleep. Bill realized that it was a miracle she'd held onto the baby during the past few days of running from the Cylons.

In a daze, he stood up and saw the doctor out. At the threshold of the door, Bill grasped Cottle's arm. The medic could see the unasked question in his commanding officer's eyes. How risky? How dangerous? Cottle frowned and shrugged. High risk. Not impossible. Bill nodded and shut the hatch, resting his forehead against the cool metal.

"So, when were you going to tell me?" His voice was a low rumble, soft but powerful enough to feel like a storm. Turning to face her, he was shocked at what he saw. She had pulled her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms protectively around her stomach. He'd never seen her curled into a ball like this. Tears were fresh on her cheeks and there were dark circles under her eyes.

"I don't know. The timing on this…Gods. I know how bad the timing on this is. We're supposed to be retiring. Instead, we're leading a fleet of rag-tag doomsday survivors." She sniffed and wiped the tears off her cheeks only to have more take their place.

"I shouldn't have to learn about your health because I find you lying unconscious on the floor."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Laura, have you really thought about the risks?" he asked, thinking back to Cottle's warnings. He'd made it clear that she very well could die if she tried to carry the baby to term. Heartache threatened to overwhelm him at the thought of the danger she was in, but he kept the panic from showing on his face.

"I am fully aware that the chances of the baby coming to term are slim to none. And…" Laura looked up into his blue eyes. "I know there's a chance I could die," she admitted. "I know I could save myself but I'm not willing to pay that price. So, how the hell was I supposed to tell you all this as the Cylons are trying to kill us? How the hell was I supposed to tell the man who watched me die once already that I'm risking my life by taking this chance?"

"What if I'm not prepared to take the risks?" he asked, rubbing a hand over his face and sucking in a ragged breath. He'd never be free of how the memories of her death haunted him. They were like a glass shard he couldn't let go of even though it continued to cut him.

"Bill. This is our child. Our daughter. I've dreamed about her for years."

"I'm sick of visions and prophecy!" he erupted.

"Me too!" Laura yelled as more tears slipped down her cheeks.

The dying leader. What if she can't escape that destiny? he thought. His insides clenched at that. Shaking his head, he sank down on the couch beside his wife. They were tired, scared, and overwhelmed.

Bill saw the pleading expression still on Laura's face. He knew what she was asking: please try to understand, please support me, and please don't be mad. Sighing, he shifted closer and pulled her into his arms. He felt her clutching him to her. He was angry at her for keeping this from him; at least, he wanted to be angry at her for not telling him sooner. Instead, for a rare moment, he simply felt overwhelmed.

"Hold onto me," he finally ordered gently, and slipped his arms under her trembling form. He carried her over to the rack, laying her down gently. He turned down the lights in their quarters, taking the moments to keep locking down his raging emotions. She needs you, he told himself slipping into bed beside her.

Bill studied his wife. Her skin was flushed from crying, and her eyes glittered in the dim light with a resolute determination. He could see the vulnerability in Laura alongside her iron will and determination to fight whatever battles she is forced to fight. He loved her. He just didn't want her to suffer again. He remembered the terrible days when she could barely muster enough strength to sit upright as her own body failed her.

"I know what you're thinking Bill," Laura whispered. "I have to take the risk. I want our daughter."

"I want her too," he admitted, and Laura gave a relieved sob. Bill sighed and pulled her into his arms. He wished he could take all the risks and dangers away. He wished they weren't on the run for their lives. He remembered Dagon's overt distaste for their new President. He remembered beginning the search for her Secret Service. He remembered her lying in sickbay getting weaker by the day.

"I just can't lose you," he whispered, letting his own tears fall now that they were in the dark.

"Then I'll fight to stay."

...

The meadow was a sea of green over the hillock, flecked with the white of daisies. Tall grass waved in the summer breeze. Flattened grass and tracks ran here and there; it looked like children had been playing. Laura followed one of the trodden paths, until she was at the edge of the forest bordering the meadow. There against the tree sat a man, his hair mostly grey and his brows furrowed in concentration. A young girl stood before him, and he was wiping her tears and picking grass and twigs out of her flaming red hair. Laura could hear the faint echo of the soothing words he whispered in a raspy voice to his daughter as her little arms came to wrap around his neck.

My little girl, Laura thought. She's real now. Gasping in tearful delight, Laura felt powerful surge of determination swell in her. Soon, she thought, I'll meet you soon. Then the morning alarm dragged her back to the land of wakefulness.

…

Marines dressed in all black escorted Gaius Baltar through the metal labyrinth of Galactica. There were two in front of him and two behind him, giving Baltar no illusion that he would be able to waltz away. He tugged at his jacket nervously, twitching every time he caught sight of the blonde woman beside him dressed in red. Instead of looking where she was going, she smirked at him.

'Don't worry Gaius, God's watching over you,' his imaginary lover crooned at him. Gaius gulped, eyeing the rifles the marines grasped in their hands. His confidence that God could stop one of the lumbering grunts from putting a bullet in his head if so commanded, well, it was nonexistent. Head Six laughed as if she could sense his dark musings. He glared at her. I'm probably the smartest person left alive, he thought, hoping that fact afforded him a measure of safety. His talents would be in demand.

The guards opened a hatch that read 'Wardroom' and motioned him inside. Gaius noted that the tables were set up in a U formation. He was marched into the center of the room. He recognized Adama and Roslin, but not the young aide at Roslin's side. Blatar stood and endured their scrutiny, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

Six held her head high and sashayed forward to perch on the center table right in between Adama and Roslin. Gaius's mouth went dry at the expanse of leg Six crossed in front of him. Despite the tantalizing sight of the beautiful blonde, Gaius couldn't help but also glance at the redhead beside her. Something radiated from within Roslin that rendered her irresistible to him in an instant. She had warm chestnut hair and pastel white skin which made her pink lips stand out. It was her eyes that he lingered on: orbs of the brightest green fire he'd ever seen, threatening to set him ablaze.

'You'll never have her, Gaius,' Six scoffed, noting his preoccupation with Laura. Despite her words, Baltar couldn't look away. He stared at Laura like she was a shot of single malt.

'Hmm. She married Adama,' the buxom blonde observed. 'And the Admiral doesn't like how you are staring at his wife.'

Baltar's eyes snapped to Adama. He caught a cold hard look on the Admiral's face that he made no attempt to hide. Baltar shifted nervously; there was something deep, dark, and very dangerous just under the surface of his calm facade. With a sinking feeling, Baltar realized Adama had been speaking to him and he had no idea what the man had said. Gaius blinked a couple of times, trying to focus on his words. Six uncrossed and recrossed her legs, deliberately trying to distract the jumpy scientist. It was clear she loved her games, but Baltar was too preoccupied by the flinty look in Adama's gaze to look away.

"Yes, well, umm. I wasn't responsible..." Gauis began to squeak out. In his peripheral vision, Six reclined on the table, looking far too much like the goddess Aphrodite brought to life. He swallowed hard. "I wasn't responsible for the incident aboard the starliner."

'Always a source of entertainment, aren't you, Gaius?' Six asked and grinned as she remembered maneuvering Baltar into the scuffle on the civilian ship. She needed to get him off the small cruiser—he was meant for greater things.

Baltar felt a deep chill spreading up from the base of his spine at the merciless stares Adama and Roslin were giving him. He felt like a mortal standing before two Titans.

"You were with a Cylon on Caprica," Roslin stated.

'They're afraid of you, Gaius,' Six warned, sitting up. 'They won't hesitate to throw you out an airlock if provoked. What are you going to do?'

"I was fooled by the Cylons like the rest of the Colonies. Who doesn't want peace?" Gaius asked calmly. Internally, he felt ready to jump out of his skin. Well, I'm already out of my mind, he thought, eyeing Six.

Baltar listened as he was told that he'd be staying aboard Galactica for the foreseeable future. "For everyone's safety," Roslin said in a dangerously low whisper. They handed down his fate. He'd be put to work in a lab under guard. The fleet needed a way to detect incoming Cylons on DRADIS, and his 'supposed genius level intellect' could prove useful. Adama didn't sound particularly convinced.

'Cylon detection.' Six noted, and she began laughing. Baltar frowned, watching as his imaginary woman's chest rose and fell with each peal of laughter. He didn't understand what was so funny to her, but it wasn't the most confusing of things she'd done.

"Of course, I'll do what I can," Gaius promised. He closed his eyes, hoping that Six would be gone when he opened them. Nope. She was still there. He was crazy after all, he realized. At least he'd be allowed to work without the hindrance of a straight jacket. Adama nodded at the marines and he was escorted out.

…

Adama watched as the marines escorted the deranged scientist out of the room. He would always have a fundamental distrust of Gaius Baltar. Hatred even. It didn't matter that this Baltar hadn't contributed to New Caprica. He was the same frakweasel. Just the sight of the man made Adama's fingers itch to grab the man and throw him out an airlock, and he knew Laura felt the same way.

That morning, Laura had shown him the report of Gaius Baltar's survival and ensuing participation in a riot on one of the civilian ships. He'd agreed with her that the slimy bastard needed to be dragged over to Galactica ASAP. What he'd been a little less sure about was using him to help overcome the Cylon's stealth technology. Desperate times, Laura reminded him. She did suggest not giving him a thermonuclear bomb.

"You're heading over to Colonial One?" Bill asked watching Laura pack up her papers.

"Yes. There's too much to do. And the press is beginning to reassemble. I need to address them," Laura explained and paused. "I'm going to tell them we're married. It's better we appear upfront and transparent. I don't know how they are going to react."

"Take care of yourself," he said, gently touching the small of her back and letting his gaze flick to her stomach. They'd gone to Cottle just that morning and seen the first glimpse of their child. He kept tamed the urge to keep her safe. His instinct to protect her was on overdrive thanks to the knowledge of their unborn child. She smiled softly at him and nodded before leaving with Billy.

…

Their prison cells were a hollow cubes of crisscrossed metal bars. None of them were sure how many days had passed. Given enough time a person could start to forget their own name on the Astral Queen.

"Hey, you hear about our new President?" he overheard one of the prisoners, probably Mason, ask.

"Some bitch name Roslin," grunted his friend Meier.

"Laura Roslin," Zarek whispered the familiar name as he leaned back against the cold bars of his cell, folding his arms against his chest to help keep a little warmth inside.

"Hey Wilkens, what can you tell us about the broad?" Mason called up to the control booth where the prison barge's captain had his feet propped up on a ledge.

"She was Secretary of Education. Frakkin' hussy is married to that Admiral what's-his-face," Wilkens said, having been the only one close enough to the talk-wireless speaker for the earlier broadcast.

"Adama," Zarek snarled. So, she actually did love the man. He curled his lip at that. He'd wanted her once, he could admit that. He never rid himself of that cloying lust mixed with hatred and appreciation.

"Yea, that's the bastard's name. Two of them control the whole damn fleet together." Zarek shook his head. Of course they do, he thought. If he closed his eyes he could see her perfectly once again. A surge of fire filled his being. He would get out of this cell. Then he would get his men out of this prison. Tom Zarek knew he was more like their new leaders than Roslin or Adama would ever admit. Laura especially. She shared with him a willingness to do what needed to be done in the name of what was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: The reveal! Merry Christmas! Let me know what you think!


	42. Let's Go Be Presidential

"President on deck," the marine guard at the door announced to the room when Laura appeared in the doorway to the briefing room on Colonial One.

The battlestar commanders, their movements sluggish and hesitant, rose and came to attention while they studied this new President and passed judgment. Meanwhile, the civilian captains present did not know whether or not they should copy their military counterparts. One by one they also pulled themselves to their feet as Laura Roslin moved across the room to the head of the table. What were the rules in this new dystopian society? What line kept them living like people instead of devolving into packs of ravenous animals who only let the fittest and strongest survive?

"Admiral, Commanders, and Captains," Laura greeted. "Have a seat," she said, motioning to the chairs around the table, which they filled. Gone were the days of conducting the business of the Colonies at marble tables beneath vaulted ceilings. They made do with what was left. The briefing room was barren: just a simple table and chairs with little portholes giving them a view of the rag-tag fleet and the seemingly endless void the ships were trapped in.

Time to set the rules of this game. Looking at the civilians, Laura was reminded of a story she read to Liam about goblins guarding treasure hoards in their dens beneath the earth. Captains shifted in their seats, nervous and calculating.

The battlestar commanders were also eyeing her warily in the same way they might eye a thermonuclear bomb. Laura wasn't foolish; she knew they saw her as a liability, a novice commander-in-chief who could easily get them all killed. It suddenly hit her like a physical tidal wave how much Bill's sense of honor and protocol had once kept her alive. His presence at her right was probably keeping her alive again. It only took one bullet and the last legitimate successor to the presidency of the Twelve Colonies would be gone. Martial law would be easy to declare. Welcome, even. For a time. Laura took a deep breath.

"Is everyone introduced, or do you need…"

"We don't need to go around and say our names like we're in kindergarten," Commander Dagon growled. Here come the kindergarten teacher jokes, Laura noted with a raised eyebrow. Right on time. Laura decided to suppress her taunts at how predictably droll the military was. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted her husband remained impassive beside her. Then again, he'd been stoic and aloof since she'd told him about the baby. Fine, she could fight her own battles.

"Although, if you're behind, Ms. Roslin…"

"Thank you, Commander Dagon," she cut him off and smiled at the older soldier. He was tall with ice blond hair speckled with grey, and his eyes were an intense grey like ashes and smoke. Laura met his fierce gaze with her own, showing no weakness. Satisfied he got the message, she moved on. "Welcome, commanders Pertinax and Skold," she greeted, nodding to each of the other commanders in turn. She sat tall at the head of the table, a figure of polish and calm. She was a soldier fighting on her home turf and armed with all the confidence familiarity provided. This was a battle, Laura knew that: the beginning of a war of the wills. She refused to lose. The survival of humanity was at stake. She needed to rally the troops and become their leader again, turn them into a cohesive unit, and keep the fleet from tearing each other apart.

"And, of course, you know Admiral Adama," Dagon added, a sneer playing at the corner of his lips.

"I do know my husband, thank you," Laura replied, and a few civilians chuckled. Refusing to let Dagon get a rise out of her, she took a moment to introduce those civilian ships captains present—ten captains randomly chosen from the surviving fleet. They would form an interim Captain's Council until she could establish the Quorum of Twelve once more. Although in this future, she'd keep the Council of Ship's Captains as a second governing body alongside the Quorum—an idea inspired by her old Captain Apollo. She jumped straight to business.

"There are some issues critical to the immediate survival of the fleet," Laura began, putting a hefty dose of authority in her tone.

"Supplies and repairs."

"And who determines needs and priorities?"

"As President, I do. My office will work with the Admiral to ensure both civilian and military needs are met," Laura asserted. Then she met Dagon's narrowing gaze. "But seeing as we are on the run for our lives, and I've been president for less than a week, forgive me if there isn't a perfect system right away," she said. It never hurt to remind people of a little concept called 'realistic expectations.'

"Repairs are a problem. There are some technicians the military can spare, but it's not enough to repair every ship in the fleet. We can't keep jumping with so many reported problems with hull integrity and FTL computers," Adama reported, shifting the conversation.

Immediately, all the civilian captains argued and protest, making cases about why their ships had priority over other ships. In a second, they'd whipped each other up into a frenzied tornado, hurdling words at each other over the table. Two civilians were pointing and jabbing at each other. Dagon was snarling at a civilian who was shriveling up in their seat. Another civilian captain accused the military of hoarding personnel as well as supplies. Laura watched Bill pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration while she shivered. Space was cold, and she was still trying to get used to not feeling truly warm anymore. No more Caprican sunshine. No more summer breeze. Just this. Laura braced her hands on the table and stood.

"That's enough!" Her tone packed a powerful punch, and the assembly fell quiet.

"I have a solution," Captain Wilkens spoke up. This caught the attention of everyone present. He grinned. "The prisoners aboard my ship, the Astral Queen," Laura fell back into her chair, as if physically shoved back. "Most of them were used to help with the heavy labor the fleet required the past few years. All those retrofits. A lot of good that did."

"You're still alive, aren't you?" Pertinax growled.

"But look at what's left. The military was supposed to protect us," a civilian captain shot back.

"That's enough," Laura snapped. "Remember the Cylons are our real enemy."

"That's funny. It was the government who tried to make peace with that enemy," Dagon said, leaning back and folding his arms over his chest.

"That's not helpful right now," Adama growled, shooting a warning look toward his subordinate.

"Anyway, the prisoners know their way around heavy machinery and equipment. They can team up with your personnel to help with repairs," Captain Wilkens offered. Laura felt her stomach knot and she swallowed hard. In her lap, her hands shook. Zarek. Zarek free. A free man who did not mind blood on his hands. A man who was capable of ripping the fleet apart. Memories of her old adversary came rushing back, but before Laura could force them into a coherent objection against the prisoners' release, Pertinax was speaking.

"People who want to stay in the fleet should make themselves useful."

"I know the men. Offer them freedom in exchange for their services. They'll agree to those terms."

"These are dangerous men," Laura cautioned in a low voice. She still had nightmares of the mutiny, of Zarek's voice breaking her heart. He could become a one man horror show if she wasn't careful, leaving a trail of corpses along his path to creating a 'better world.'

"Men who were on their way to parole hearings. Most are ready to be released," Wilkens countered.

"Can't you handle some malcontents in your fleet, Madame President?" Dagon asked, using her title as a taunt. The group turned and looked at her, waiting to see a crack in her resolve or a slip in her authority. Weakness would lead to her getting removed along with Adama when he tried to protect her. It hit her how much they were a package deal. That was dangerous.

"We have survivors from all walks of life. Realistically, it's going to take time before things settle down and releasing these men could cause that process to take longer."

"We could vote. If this is still a democracy?" Wilkens said, and Laura felt as though her hands were tied behind her back. Democracy would mean the people made mistakes, but she knew accusations of dictatorship and monarchy would always be on the horizon. She and Bill had almost complete control of the fleet between the two of them—lawfully attained, but what was the law in a refugee fleet?

"Military doesn't get to run on a democracy," Adama said, attempting to counter the proposal.

"But we're civilians," the captain of the Rising Star fired back.

"Fine. Vote. But be aware of the dangers this solution presents to the fleet," Laura said, letting democracy win. At least this solution would also deal with their repair problem. One problem at a time, Laura thought. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her husband giving her a hard look.

They voted to release the prisoners in exchange for their help. Laura felt her heart hammering in her chest at the thought of Zarek being free once again. Every muscle felt tight, like her body wanted to spring into action despite being trapped at the table. Her instinct screamed at her to eliminate Zarek before he hurt the people she loved.

"Riots are still a problem. Some captains are hoarding supplies," the captain of a smaller freighter said with an angry glare toward the captain of the Rising Star.

"For now, marines can be sent in to break up the riots and set up supply chains," Adama offered.

"That will work until we establish a civilian fleet security," Laura said, and Adama's eyes snapped to her. They hadn't spoken about this.

"Civilian fleet security?" he asked. "That won't be necessary." The other commanders and captains looked between the two of them warily. Laura ignored him and turned to other matters of importance to the fleet. They continued discussion until several issues were resolved. The commanders made their way back to their battlestars and the captains to their ships. Laura turned to her aide.

"Billy, you know what's at stake with Astral Queen and Zarek. You know the danger. Set up a process to transfer the Astral Queen to the prisoners' control and put their crew to work in the fleet. This time I'd rather not have any hostages taken. And leave Captain Adama out of this," Laura said to her aide. She turned to her husband. "I'd like a word, Admiral." At her tone, Billy scurried away.

Adama noted how easy it was to read when Laura was angry. Her face flushed and the air around her crackled with energy. Her eyes blazed. Laura herself, despite the tightly contained fire, become polite. She now smiled at her opponent but it didn't reach her eyes. Chin tilted up, she dared him to defy her.

"Don't you dare undermine me in the middle of a governing session."

"You cannot seriously think I will trust the safety of the fleet to a civilian police force!"

"Crimes, riots, and disorder. It's only going to get worse unless something is done to maintain the peace. There are enough people out there to form one of the larger cities on Caprica. Cities have a police force."

"The marines can keep the peace," Adama said, as if that alone settled the matter.

"Like they did on the Gideon?" Laura asked, referring to the Gideon massacre when Galactica's marines shot into a crowd killing unarmed civilians. Bringing the incident up was still a sore spot, but Laura was not going to pull her punches when the safety of the fleet was at stake.

"They'll be under my command," Adama growled, his voice low and dangerous, this time daring her to defy him. Laura's smile tightened.

"We need a civilian force answerable to the Quorum of Twelve and dedicated to nothing but internal security. We can't start looking like a military dictatorship."

"'Scuse me?"

"'There's a reason you separate military and the police. One fights the enemies of the state. The other serves and protects the people. When the military becomes both, then the enemies of the state tend to become the people.' You were right you know." She could admit to being reassured at the knowledge the marines would be under Adama's steady and fair command. It was not enough.

"Don't throw my own words back at me."

"Admiral, this is a political decision," Laura said. She looked at her husband and took a deep breath. "And I've made it." Her words were soft but firm. She turned and gathered up her papers.

"You're making a lot of decisions without taking my opinion into account," Bill said, and Laura knew he was commenting on the baby as well. She'd made the decision to keep it despite knowing the risk it put her in. She'd made her decision knowing it might leave Bill without her.

"I have to do what I think is best," she said, refusing to look at him.

"Then you must be happy to be back in power again."

"Have you ever accepted that I might be the right person for this job because I can actually do the job and not just because I'm the lesser of many evils or was in the right place at the right time?" she snapped, realising she was practically yelling at him by the end. She shook her head and folded her arms. "You've seen me at my weakest, but I'm not that person anymore. You are going to have to get used to sharing power again."

Silence stretched like cold space between them. What was there left to be said, he wondered. Turning on his heels to leave, Adama did not want to admit that she might be right.

A heavy feeling settled over Laura as she watched him go before turning and walking to one of the portholes. The fleet was spread out before her, many more ships than last time, but it was still only a small fraction of the once mighty Colonies. Protecting what remained of humanity was her mission, what she knew her purpose to be. Those who refuse to remember the past are doomed to repeat it. Knowledge and the humility to recognize when we are wrong and need to grow will set us free. At least, Laura hoped so. Implement better policies. Faster. Quicker. Make better choices. She knew she could be a better leader; she felt she owed it to the people she once had failed.

Closing her eyes, she wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against the wall. Danger was everywhere. She was under no illusion that Dagon wouldn't mind putting a bullet between her eyes. Would he hesitate if he knew about the miracle she had growing inside her? Possibly. But if people learned about her child too soon, she'd lose control of the fleet; they, especially the military commanders, would see it as weakness. She and Bill couldn't be seen as weak right now. The fleet had a better chance of survival with them leading it. Didn't it? Her thoughts rattled around in her head. Was it her arrogance talking or her pragmatism?

Opening her eyes she looked out at the array of ships again. Either way, there was work to be done. Straightening, she turned and moved toward her office on Colonial One where she had a mountain of work waiting for her.

…

Doral moved through the Cylon basestar fighting the lingering fog resurrection had plunged his mind into. A pair of Colonial marines had finally found him and dragged him out of his hiding spot on Galactica. They'd hauled him through the corridors, kicking and struggling. At the end, he found himself thrown in one of Galactica's airlocks.

Fear travelled through his veins, but before it reddened his facial skin, Doral turned the emotion off. As a result, his eyes remained steady, as if looking at the clouds. He turned to face the control booth. There they were. He knew they're not who humanity would have chosen for their champions. The two figures were older than fickle humans usually prefer, and they looked tired. Doral could still see the hard resolution in their gazes; it was a mistake to cross them. He knew it was on their orders he was in that airlock. The woman had stepped forward, her voice transmitted through the mic.

"This conflict between our peoples doesn't have to continue," Roslin's voice was warm and soft, and Doral thought of a coiled snake. "It can stop. Tell your people to leave us in peace. If they don't, we will defend ourselves." Doral smiled at her, knowing he wasn't hiding any of the contempt he felt for humanity. Roslin seemed to understand his response. He remembered watching her signal the marine next to her who pressed a button. For a moment Doral's body rushed down a metal tube, then his lungs were on fire before he felt ice gripping and invading his body.

Then he woke up in a bath of goo. Resurrection was an awful and disgusting process. None of the Cylons enjoyed it.

He entered the command center of the basestar, greeting his fellow Cylon models. His eyes were drawn to Leoben, dressed in sloppy shirts and pants. He looked as if he'd spent another long night at the Hybrid's side. His eyes were downcast, and his shoulders slumped. Doral rolled his eyes; Leoben was a hero of the Cylon people, and his own line had heaped mountains of praise upon the Two for the work he'd done to perfect the stealth technology. They'd captured the technology from the colonials who'd crossed armistice line. Without that technology, the Cylons never would have been able to sneak their ships and nukes so close to the Colonial Fleet.

However, with every heap of praise, Leoben only looked more distraught. Whatever, Doral thought, joining the other models at the table.

"Where did they go?" the Cavil model, always dressed in black, asked him as he took a seat at the sleek table.

"I don't know. They threw me out of an airlock before I could get their exact coordinates," Doral answered. "Septar Sector possibly. Their president, she said the conflict between our people doesn't have to continue."

"No. We can't let them go," his identical model, also dressed in an electric blue suit, immediately protested. Doral nodded his agreement.

"If we do, they'll return one day and seek revenge," a Six model said, her voice like silk. She reclined lazily in her chair, a small sensual smile gracing her face. Caprica Six, the other hero of the Cylons, was absent from the meeting. Adar had been putty in Caprica Six's hands: he'd completely fallen for her honey-coated promises of peace with the Cylons.

"It's in their nature," D'Anna said.

"The plan is to eradicate all of the humans," Cavil agreed. His brows were furrowed in concentration and thought. From the memories he'd managed to access from his counterpart from the future, he'd known some humans would survive. He'd ensured that the Final Five would be amongst the surviving ships. They'd have front row seats to humanity's struggle as they became a ravenous pack of dogs. Cavil grinned triumphantly; the humans would turn on each other as their resources ran out. How long until they fought each other over scraps of food and water? "In the end, none can survive."

"Don't worry. We'll find them," the youngest looking Cylon said with a smile. An Eight.

"How is your model progressing on your little project?" D'Anna asked her.

"Sharon has made contact with Helo. They're on the move," the brunette smiled.

…

Billy Keikeya wasn't a fighter; the one time he'd tried to take a stand in a fight he'd ended up dead.

Then, in a strange plot-twist, he'd found himself alive again. Alive and ready to throw a punch and start another fight. Gods. This whole situation was ridiculous, Billy thought from where he stood and stared at the scene in front of him. He'd strode into Laura's office on Colonial One, proudly coming to report how he'd dealt with Astral Queen (he'd achieved it without any hostages being taken). Zarek had even been pleasant to deal with. Billy was excited to give his report but stopped short when he saw Lee Adama standing behind Laura.

The president sat at her desk studying the papers pretty-boy had brought over, and Billy could see a photo of Dagon, copies of various fleet orders, and disciplinary notices. It was information a presidential aide should have been asked to retrieve. For one irrational moment, Billy imagined his fist connecting with Lee's face. In the next irrational moment, Billy wondered if his punch would even phase the viper jock. Probably not. Still. Depressingly, Billy wondered if Lee had swept Dee, the woman Billy had believed to be his girlfriend, so thoroughly off her feet that his memory had been pushed to the side as the other timeline had continued.

Lost in thought, he watched Laura smile up at Lee, thanking him for his work. Billy was tempted to stomp his foot and scream about how Laura was HIS mother figure not Lee's. He'd taken care of her as she lay dying of cancer. He'd been her first confidante. He'd been there to watch Laura blush after first being kissed by the man she'd later marry. He'd been her son first.

Blood rushed to his face, making him flush scarlet, Billy knew was being ridiculous. This was a new timeline, and it was just playing out differently. Objectively he already liked it much better. His sisters were alive, and Laura had told him she wasn't dying. Still, the sight of Lee, and the knowledge that he was Laura's smiling stepson, was like a bullet to Billy's heart. The presidential aide could make that comparison now, he thought with a dark sense of humor. His hands balled into fists when he remembered finding Dee on a date with Lee.

Before Billy got a chance to address the president, Liam came charging into the room. He watched Lee smile in his obnoxiously perfect way at his little brother.

"So…who gave you the kick in the ass you needed? Or did she ask you to marry her?" Liam teased gleefully. Lee's smile melted into a scowl, as the brothers faced off in another one of their verbal sparring matches. Billy stood there mildly dazed. Was Lee getting married?

"Liam," Laura scolded, but her teenage son took no notice.

"Congrats bro. I'll get you a first aid kit for your wedding night. Knowing Kara, I'm sure you'll need it."

"Liam!" Laura's voice raised, and she looked up to give Liam a warning look. Billy felt an ice bucket of relief wash over him and cool his temper - Lee was marrying Kara. They deserved each other, he decided.

Thoroughly diverted from her task at hand, Laura noticed Billy standing there. Her attention snapped her aide out of his strange reverie.

"Astral Queen has been turned over to the prisoners, and they're helping organize the work details to help repair the fleet," Billy reported. "The press is starting to assemble for their first official press conference." Laura nodded, giving her aide her full attention despite Liam and Lee going at each other behind her back. Billy realized she must be pretty used to their shenanigans. Things really had changed. He hoped.

"Ready to be presidential?" Laura asked, giving him a tired smile.

"What choice do we have?"

"There's always a choice."

"And what if our choices don't lead to better results?" Billy asked. Neither Laura nor Billy noticed the way Lee froze. Neither were aware of how the viper jock's thoughts turned to the Olympic Carrier and the Yashuman. Guilt was simmering like acid under his skin at how he'd hesitated – he hadn't shot down the escort ship and as a result it had destroyed the Yashuman.

"Experience is a great and cruel teacher," Laura said to Billy. Lee flinched at the scathing glance Billy threw in his direction. He deserved that. For the hundredth time, he wished he didn't have the memories of the other timeline. He tried focusing on Liam, but couldn't help eavesdrop on the other two in the room.

"You know, I once lost hope for a bit," Laura admitted dropping her voice so the playful boys behind her couldn't hear. "It nearly cost me everything. Don't lose hope, Billy. You're a good boy and deserve the best."

At her soft tones, some of Billy's irritation and anger melted away.

"Thanks," he smiled at his almost-mother. He noted the time. "Let's be presidential."

They never got to the press briefing; Tigh's voice broke over the wireless ordering the fleet to Condition One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments. It gives me the encouragement to keep going at knowing people are enjoying the story. I love hearing what people think! If there are particular plot parts of BSG people want to see woven in, let me know.
> 
> Someone requested angst. Fair heads up, there's rocky times ahead.


	43. There's a Plan

One crisis followed another.

Condition Ones were called at any time day or night. There was always something threatening the survival of humanity.

The people found a fierce spirit in their new leader. She was like a phoenix who rose from the ashes of their home worlds' destruction. She rallied her people with a grim determination, and they held onto hope. President Roslin came into her own once more – the leader of her people. What she kept hidden was the awful nausea that lasted all day. It spiked at the slightest provocation. The pungent smell of Tylium fuel, the aroma of stale gunpowder, and reek of whatever flowery cleaner they used on Colonial One all left her discreetly rushing for a bathroom.

That morning, she poked at the breakfast she struggled to choke down. Even in the early days they couldn't waste food, and her baby needed its mother to eat.

"You've cut Tylium rations to the military?" Bill growled from where he sat at his desk.

"We talked about this, remember? The whole fleet has to make sacrifices."

"I didn't realize that included the military."

"You're part of the Fleet."

"We protect the Fleet."

"The refineries can't keep up with how much we are using right now."

"Dammit, Laura, you know why vipers and raptors need fuel."

"And what good will your vipers and raptors do when the Rising Star, or the Celestra, or Faru Sadin can't make a jump?" Bill caught the undercurrent of fatigue and suffering in her tone. He watched her poke at the food on her plate.

"You need to eat."

"Really?"

"Laura, your condition…"

"My condition? It's called being pregnant. It's ok to say the word," Laura said, shoving the food away. She turned to glare at her reticent husband. The air crackled between them with the potential for angry shots to be fired.

Alert klaxons blared through the Battlestar Galactica instead.

"Sitrep?" Adama barked into the comm unit. Another attack. Laura jumped to her feet, looking to where Liam sat on the couch. He pulled headphones from his ears and looked scared. She motioned for him to stay where he was.

"Launch alert fighters. Prioritize any raiders heading for the civilian fleet," Adama ordered. He stood at his desk with the comm in his fist. "I'm on my way with the President."

The fire in her husband's eyes drove the fatigue away from Laura. He strode to the hatch stoic as ever, but there was an icy blaze in his eyes that sent shivers down her spine. Her Admiral. He'd fully taken on his role again too. He was the fierce protector of the Fleet. He was the man who brought rooks and nuggets aboard his ship and turned far too many of them into his adoptive children. Every Cylon attack put those children in danger.

She fell into step behind her husband as they moved toward the hatch. She could hear the pounding of footsteps of men and women running to action stations. Even in their quarters, she could feel their determination. They would do their damndest to beat the Cylons back. Again.

Laura had been aboard Colonial One when Tigh announced the first Condition One since the destruction of Yashuman. That was weeks ago. The Cylons had been hitting them with suicide runs as the Fleet spent weeks on the run. Without any way to track the human refugee fleet, Cylon forces spread out to planets with natural resources. The Colonials' need to replenish oxygen, water, metal, and fuel forced them to seek out the resource-heavy planets where groups of Cylon raiders often waited. It was a game of spiders and flies and space was one nasty web.

Raiders would sometimes be lying in wait when the Fleet jumped to a new system. If not, there was always a chance they could find the Fleet eventually. It felt like the enemy constantly barreled toward the humans as hard and as fast as possible.

Machines were logical.

They used hard facts.

Cold reason.

The raiders weren't prone to cheap sentimentality or irrational fears. They calculated. They analyzed. Their algorithms knew that individual raider squadrons were no match for the power of four Battlestars. It was suicide.

The Cylon turned death into their own macabre weapon.

They had taken to smashing themselves into civilian ships before Colonial vipers could intercept. It was the perfect strategy. Damage and casualty reports were mounting. If the raiders died and resurrected quickly enough, the Cylon fleet could learn the Colonials' location and jump in.

They attacked whatever vessels they could reach first, snatching away the good and the young. The survivors imagined how their friends had died. They pictured a mass of terrible sensations: the impact of the blow, the heat of an explosion, the hoarse howl of people, the rush of venting air, the sudden pull of the vacuum of space and death.

Now the fleet had been found again. People waited to see if the grim reaper would find them this time.

Under her feet, Laura felt the vibrations of the ship as she walked. It was harder than usual. It was how battle aboard a battlestar felt–maneuvering thrusters and gun barrages jarring the ship. She and Bill were nearly at the hatch.

His hand was on the door. Before he could turn the handle, Bill was thrown off his feet. In the second it took for him to collide with the bulkhead, Bill realized a Cylon raider must have successfully made a suicide run into Galactica. Instantly, his mind was with the men and women under his command who he already realized must have been lost at the impact. Even the heavily armored Galactica could not fully protect her crew against this new brutal Cylon tactic.

Compartmentalize. Mourn later.

An alarmed cry caused his blood to run cold and time to slow for Bill. Laura. His head whipped around just in time to watch the impact finish throwing his wife to the deck.

Time stopped.

He saw her and the million dangerous things around his quarters. The tables had sharp edges. There were hard corners to his desk. He had weapons displayed. There was a sword over his couch. Books were falling from his swaying bookshelf inches away from Laura. He moved in a flash, covering Laura's body as the ship continued to lurch, throwing them around like ragdolls. Explosive decompressions? Another raider's impact?

They're supposed to bring an infant into this environment?

Objects fell around him, hitting his shoulders and back, but he stayed crouched over his wife's body to protect her. Despite the negligible height difference, she was much smaller than him. Her body was more vulnerable. There was a tiny life she was determined to hold onto.

He looked toward Liam and saw him taking cover between the couch and table. Good. He was a smart boy.

Bill swore when a glass decanter fell on his head. The glass shattered and rained down around them. Laura's startled cry had him pulling her firmer into his arms. He wouldn't let her move until the ship stopped trying to throw them about. It was only a couple of seconds, but Bill was pierced by how terrified the situation made him. Keep her safe, his instincts ordered.

Everyone aboard Galactica had hit the deck before, but most colonial warriors weren't impossibly pregnant women. In those seconds all Bill cared about was his family. Not Galactica. Not the people under his command. Laura. Liam. Baby. Bill felt a desperate need to ensure that nothing threatened the woman he loved or his unborn child still undetectable inside her. Holding her on the ground sent every protective urge Bill felt toward her into overdrive. He would defend her against anything and everything no matter the odds.

The ship stilled. He was instantly checking her over.

"Laura! Are you alright?"

"You're bleeding, Bill."

"Fine. But are you alright?"

"Mom!"

"Yea?" Laura felt dazed. Her head had collided with the deck. Without warning the lights blinked out. The Adamas were plunged into darkness.

Laura was overcome a feeling of dread.

In that moment of darkness and shadow, an image from her latest vision came to life there in front of her. It stood staring down at her, surrounded by a lightless void. Leoben. She could see every detail of the phantom, as if he'd stepped straight from her latest prophetic nightmare. He reached a hand down to her, his hand open to help her stand. His mouth formed words. It took her a moment to hear them.

"Laura… Laura… Laura… I have something to tell you," he said, and his voice sounded like a distant echo. Her scream caught in her throat.

The lights came back on and strong arms were still around her, helping her upright, checking her over for injury.

The lights flickered out again, and the image of Leoben emerged from the shadows again. He crouched down next to her and Bill, and she flinched away when the Cylon reached toward her abdomen. Laura gasped in alarm and wrapped her arms around her stomach. Laura felt her breath catching in her chest as she panicked. Stay away from my baby!

In the dark Bill felt his wife tense and her arms wrapping around her stomach. What had she felt that he could not? Whatever was wrong, there was nothing he could do. He hated feeling so helpless. Then the anger hit. The Cylons threw death and destruction at them with all their might, and he couldn't even keep his wife safe in their quarters.

The lights came back on.

"You have to get to CIC, Admiral," Laura ordered in a shaky voice. She knew he couldn't stay to worry about her. She was so dizzy from hitting her head and so shaken from having a vision while awake that she couldn't stand yet. Liam was there in a second, grabbing her hand. He had always been observant and caring. She squeezed his hand.

"Are you OK, Liam?"

"I'm fine. Promise. What about you?"

"Yea. Bill, you have to go."

"Take care of your mother," Adama ordered Liam before making for the hatch. Still, with his hand on the handle, he paused and looked back. He never would have hesitated twenty years ago. Then a fierce redhead had come into his life and claimed his heart so thoroughly he had finally truly understood what it meant to be bonded to someone.

"Go," she insisted. He did. He hated it, but he left.

Striding into CIC, Adama observed the situation. The Cylons were still not appearing on DRADIS. His pilots' voices over the comms confirmed they had the remaining raiders in their sights. One by one the other Cylons were destroyed as the Fleet's FTLs reported ready. One of the civilian ships reported damage from a Cylon impact, but their ship was just small enough to land in the flight pod of the largest battlestar. Once they landed, Adama ordered the Fleet to jump.

After they jump, the Colonials waited. Each jump the Fleet was vulnerable. Vipers had to visually scan the area to confirm there were no Cylons waiting for them. There was nothing this time. If they were lucky, this time the rag-tag fugitive fleet would be able to jump without the Cylons finding them.

…

"So, have you been able to work in a stress free environment like I recommended?" Cottle's gruff, patronizing tone left Laura scowling at her physician. She hated sickbay. The unique smoke and antiseptic smell, its grey walls, and scratchy beds caused morbid memories of her own death to creep up on her and try to unnerve her. If memories of her own demise wasn't bad enough, Cottle had the bedside manner of a cankerous, old grizzly bear. She also really didn't like the feel of his clammy hands. Sickbay just wasn't a fun place to be, but Laura refused to let a little thing like her own death cause her to shirk away from anything. Each appointment she marched into sickbay with her usual 'let's get this over with' attitude. Cottle tried not to take it personally.

The doc took her readings. Out of the corner of her eye, Laura could have sworn she saw his lips moving as if searching for the usual cigarette they held. Laura noticed her grouch of a doctor had stopped smoking around her since learning of her condition. She wondered if the lack of smoke was a subtle sign of affection from Cottle, or if it was a result of her throwing up on his shoes when she caught a pungent whiff of cigarette smoke. She wasn't sure which she preferred.

"My days are spent being the pampered politician I've always wanted to be," she growled.

"Then why is your blood pressure through the roof?" Cottle frowned. Her blood pressure was one of his biggest concerns.

"The Gemonese want more water rations, the press wants to know everything, the captain of the Botanical Cruiser is having trouble producing crops, there's an outbreak of STDs on several ships because everyone wants to frak everyone and everything when they think they're about to die, and somehow I offended the Chrion's captain."

"The rant make you feel better?"

"No."

"Anything I can do?"

"Can you teach the fleet about safe sex?"

"You're the teacher, not me."

"Just what everyone likes to keep reminding me," Laura said, giving him a glare that made him want to throw up his hands in surrender. How did people irritate her and live to tell the tale? He could because she had a soft spot for him, he could mentally boast.

"Where is that... charming lug that convinced you to marry him?" Cottle asked, glancing at the empty chair in their curtained off area of sickbay.

Feeling tears well up in her eyes, Laura only offered a simple, "he's busy."

"He's still panicking about…"

"About his old wife carrying a baby while leading humanity on the run from our mortal enemy?" Laura sighed. "Hell, you're not thrilled."

"I'm concerned. In fact, roll up your sleeve. I'm putting you on an IV for an hour. You're dehydrated and not keeping enough nutrients down. You've actually lost weight," Cottle grumbled but paused for a moment, "and you're not old, young lady." Laura's laugh filled the air as a tear fell.

Cottle didn't comment at how eerily serene Laura stayed when he took her elbow in his gloved hand. He wasn't a gentle person by nature, but he tried to be careful with his president and friend. She didn't flinch at the needle he forced to pierce her skin. She actually frakkin' joked about it all being strangely familiar. Cottle wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at her levity, so he settled for threatening her. Marines would come after her if she tried to leave before he decreed that she was done with the IV. Predictably, Laura huffed indignantly but fished some papers out of her briefcase and settled onto the bed.

She laid back on the pillows and flipped some papers onto her lap. Her groan was louder than she meant for it to be when the first thing in her pile happened to be the fleet newspaper. They're on the run for their lives and under constant threat of attack but the press had already gotten a fleet newspaper organized. Go figure, Laura sighed. She remembered how the Fleet never ran out of paper. Food, yes. Medicine, yes. Lubricant, yes. Toothpaste, yes. Common sense, oh yes. Oh, yes. There had always been paper though.

Laura looked down at the latest headline. 'Laura Roslin, Our Damnation or Salvation?' It was blazed across the paper in irritatingly bold lettering. How do we never run out of ink, she wondered. How original, was her next thought. Scoffing, she turned the page and swallowed what would have been an obscenely loud moan of frustration at what she saw there.

She rubbed her forehead with her hand. 'Tom Zarek, Man of the People,' was the title of a smaller headline. Her old foe hadn't gained the instant attention of the whole fleet this time because the hostage situation had been averted. Still, Zarek was a name with weight from before the Fall. Laura Roslin could feel how heavy his presence was as in the fleet as if it was coming through the paper and settling in her bones. She scanned the piece. It looked like he and the rest of Astral Queen's crew had been making themselves useful throughout the Fleet. It looked good. Benign. The lack of overt threats from Zarek sent up a red warning flag in Laura's mind. Swallowing her distaste, she dutifully read through the other articles and made notes in her mind. She'd made it half way through her papers before Cottle finally felt gracious enough to release her.

Cottle watched Laura leave sickbay before picking up the phone. He called CIC and demanded to speak to Adama on a secure line. Dualla was smart enough to quickly comply.

"You're a bastard, Bill."

"What have I done this time?"

"Where have you been?"

"Doing my job in CIC."

"Your ass should have been down here and you know it. I don't care how much the idea of losing her scares the shit out of you. At her next appointment I expect to see you too."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not going to let her die. So please tell me you're not delusional enough to think you're protecting your heart by holding her at arm's length right now. Now act like the fearless viper jock and war hero you supposedly were an eternity ago and park your sorry behind in the chair I set by your wife's bed when she has an appointment down here!" Cottle slammed the comm unit down and pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves after reaming his commanding officer as hard as he had, he pulled three cigarettes from the pack and lit them. He'd earned a treat.

...

Laura strode through Galactica on her way to the hangar deck to board Colonial One. Her ship was docked in Galactica's to help preserve fuel. Her guards kept a respectable pace behind her, eyeing everyone who came close to their charge with wary eyes. They were already absolutely loyal to her, and they kept vigilant for that reason despite knowing Galactica was the safest ship in the fleet for her to be on. The whole crew was absolutely loyal to their Old Man and would have been respectful and deferential to Laura by that simple fact alone.

Then the gossip spread.

Pilots whispered about how their president called each of them by their callsigns. Deckhands remarked at how she knew their names and spoke respectfully to them (unlike some of the hotshot pilots who thought they could be rude to the enlisted knuckledraggers). Laura Roslin became the stuff of legend when she was heard telling Saul Tigh off for being rude to the civilian captains.

Laura walked the corridors deep in reflection, smiling and nodding to passing crewmen.

In life there was always a chaos factor to consider, a bit of unpredictability life could throw someone's way. Besides the Cylons, Laura thought she'd gotten her dose of chaos out of the way for the day after her vision of Leoben. Then there was Zarek's unexpected article in the newspaper.

Laura forgot the rule of three. She nearly collided headfirst into Baltar in the corridor.

"Excuse me, Doctor Baltar!" she said, stepping away from him. Or had she jumped away?

"Madame President," the jumpy scientist greeted.

"How is your work going?" Laura asked, already suspecting he'd have nothing new to report.

"It's uhhh," Baltar muttered, shifted, and swallowed. He tried not to squirm as his imaginary Six slipped her arms around him from behind, scraping her nails along his stomach. He was quickly distracted by the press of Six's breasts against his back and the heat of her breath against his neck.

Her hair is such a beautiful shade of red, Baltar thought. Baltar felt Six tense at his stray thought for the politician in front of him. President Roslin looked at him as if she was unimpressed. Baltar realized he should reply.

"I've. Well, I've tried new DRADIS scanning protocols to no effect. I have some new…ideas. It's all taking longer than expected. Unfortunately."

'She can see right through you,' Six purred in his ear. Baltar moved his neck to give her better access as her lips went searching for his pulse point. She trailed kisses down his neck. I wonder what she'd be like in bed? Gaius thought and yelped when Six's kiss became a sharp bite.

"Unfortunate. Too bad you're, supposedly, one of the best scientists left to us," Laura taunted in a level voice, tilting her head to the side to observe the strange man.

Suddenly Laura closed her eyes and let out a slow breath as her hand rested against her stomach. Baltar felt Six's arms leave him. The imaginary Cylon dressed in red walked over and circled the Colonial's president.

'Somethings different this time. She's different.' Baltar raised an eyebrow at his imaginary lover. 'Have you read the Pythian Prophesy, Gaius?' Six asked. Baltar shook his head.

"I'm...I'm going to do my best, Madame President," Baltar said, addressing the corporeal woman in front of him while trying not to let Six make a fool of him.

'Stop undressing her with your mind Gaius. You're making me angry.' Six growled.

"I have no doubt." Laura scoffed, before maneuvering around Baltar and continuing through Galactica's hallways as if they'd never crossed paths.

'She's carrying the sign of God's plan,' Six murmured, watching Laura walk away. She turned back to Gaius and stroked a hand down his cheek. 'God's plan works in mysterious ways,' she sighed, smiling. Gaius grinned as his vixen trailed her fingers up into his hair. Six slammed Baltar as hard as possible into the bulkhead next to them. 'But don't touch her! I wouldn't like it very much,' she threatened in a dangerous and teasing voice. She held him against the wall while passing crewmen rolled their eyes and kept walking.

…

Kara was happy. Sure, later she would catch hell from the Old Man and/or the President for buzzing a few of the civilian ships, but it was worth it to hear the comms explode in a wild static of disgruntled indignation. She was in a good mood after Lee had pulled her into a storage closet for some fun this morning. It was more discreet than their pilot's bunks. Boomer and Chief had already taken Kara's preferred spot by Galactica's water supply, but Lee had rolled with it.

Kara grinned. They'd get a billet to married quarters soon enough and they'd have all the fun they wanted. She couldn't believe they were getting married. It was happening. She giggled and then shook herself firmly. Get ahold of yourself, she ordered. She was Starbuck. Cocky viper jocks had reputations and images to maintain despite the enthusiasm the end of the world had given her fiance.

She was eyeing another civilian ship and thinking wicked thoughts when her comm sparked to life again. Ice filled her veins when she heard a familiar voice.

"I know you're out there harbinger. The stream has brought us together again. We need to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear what you all think. I feel like I'm in a weird writing slump, but I'm trying to keep going. If I waited for a chapter to feel perfect, we'd be waiting a long time for the next post.


	44. Call-Signs

The civilian captains were royally pissed off, and their ire was directed toward the one and only Starbuck. Over the last hour, Admiral Adama had received back-to-back calls from ship captains demanding that he control his hot-shot pilot. Kara's dangerous fly-by stunts had the fleet's civilian captains more than a little hot under the collar. It also had Adama nursing a growing headache.

Tigh listened as Adama soothed another set of ruffled civie feathers. Coddling civilians irritated Galactica's XO. He could hear the yapping of yet another captain, and it set his teeth on edge. The fact that the lot of them had a valid point to complain about because of Kara only deepened his mood. Never let it be said that he couldn't find the silver lining of a situation though—Tigh felt gleeful at the prospect of Kara Thrace getting some well-earned hack time. He was of the opinion that Adama's pet viper jock still needed to be taken down a peg or two.

"Admiral, I have Starbuck on the line." Dualla reported. "She's requesting to speak to Galactica Actual."

"Your kid knows she's in trouble," Tigh muttered in a low voice, smirking.

Adama sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Put her through," he ordered, picking up his comm. He gave Tigh a hard look when his XO moved to grab his own headphones so he could listen in. "Starbuck, you'd better have a damn good..."

"Leoben," she interrupted, her voice shaking. "It's Leoben. He's here."

The shock knocked all the air from Adama's lungs. His sharp reprimand for Kara died before it ever made it past his lips. His gaze shot up to Tigh and he motioned for his XO to put his own headset on.

"Say again."

"It's Leoben. He's… raider… here… here in a raider. He… he remembers. Everything. The interrogation… streams… Earth... New Caprica…" Kara's voice was strained, her control slipping in the shadow of a man who'd done almost as much to frak up her psyche as her birth mother had. Her comm was having trouble picking up her hitching voice.

"Breathe, Kara," Tigh ordered. A different Saul Tigh had taken the place of the crotchety XO of Galactica. He'd instantly switched into a softer, sympathetic figure at the mention of New Caprica. This Tigh was the man who had a turbulent friendship with the viper jock and understood her crazed state. "Breathe. Slow down. Now, report."

"Cylon raider. Ten meters in front of me," Kara reported in a clear effort to be as dispassionate as possible. "Pilot claims to be Leoben. He says he remembers everything. He's surrendered. Wants to talk."

"Signs of aggression?"

"None."

Adama weighed his options. Leoben manipulated and played games with a disturbing ease. He uttered deep truths yet mixed it with lies and half-baked philosophy. Causing chaos was an artform for this particular Cylon model. It was tempting to order Starbuck to blow the raider out of the sky and avoid what discord the bastard's games could spark. "Order his ship to shut down. We'll tow him in. Prisoner drill," he ordered instead.

In CIC, Adama heard Tigh ordering the CAP to form up at Kara's position and for marines to report to the hangar bay. They could hope Leoben had turned ally again as he had once before, but they wouldn't be unprepared for tricks and schemes. He could hope. The Colonials could use a strategic edge right now, but they couldn't afford to be trusting. After a split second, Adama added, "If he tries anything, shoot him down."

For a moment, he only heard the heavy breathing of Kara over the comm line. He could practically hear her reminding herself that she was a steely-eyed viper jock who wasn't going to be afraid of Leoben. Finally, she replied in a crisp voice.

"Yes, sir."

…

In the void of space, a viper and raider squared off against one another. At the outskirts of the fleet they floated, away from prying eyes. Starbuck felt like an animal on the outskirts of a herd who was being watched by a hyena. It wouldn't surprise her if Leoben started laughing like one over the comm. She had relayed the Admiral's orders, telling the Cylon they'd be taking him aboard Galactica.

Leoben had been delighted.

Kara then warned him that she'd shoot his ass down if he tried anything.

He'd laughed.

It took less than a minute for him to comply without issuing any protestations. Kara watched the raider's engines power down. So far, the Cylon seemed happy to play the Colonials' game. Nevertheless, Kara's eyes remained fixed on the raider now drifting in space.

"All this has happened before, and all this will happen again," Leoben's voice mixed in with the static of the open comm line. Kara felt a pulse of hot anger shoot through her.

"You have no right to quote our scriptures!"

"The same Kara Thrace but so different. The same fire, but your soul is free and your mind has transcended. We have a lot to talk about."

"Talk?" She shrieked. "You slaughtered my entire civilization. Again! Billions of people…"

"The stream couldn't be diverted, no matter how much you or I wanted it to be. But you're standing with me on the shore now, and like me, you've seen how the water can flow." His voice was warm and tranquil like a summer breeze, pleasant and almost teasing.

Kara noted another viper that had been flying CAP come up alongside her. A raptor with two more vipers flew out from Galactica coming over to help tow Leoben in. These were her comrades-in-arms, some of the only people she could trust, and it soothed her frayed nerves to see them in the inky black beside her.

"We can throw a pebble into time and it creates a ripple, but the current always corrects itself," Leoben murmured, the static mixing with the calm hum of his voice.

"Why can't you leave me alone?"

"I'm not here to hurt you, Kara. I'm here to help."

…

Adama marched to the hangar bay where an entire platoon of marines had taken up tactical positioning throughout the bay. He was taking no chances. Trust would have to be earned, and Leoben would find it a daunting task. Entering the bay, Adama noted all his men and women gripping their rifles, training their sights on the Cylon raider as it was towed into Galactica. He had confidence these marines could handle Leoben—they were a truly scary lot when provoked.

Chief Tyrol had most of his deck gang evacuated. Equipment was left abandoned and lying around the bay. The smell of tylium from the gang recently fueling vipers hung in the air. The remaining crew helped Tyrol maneuver the looming ship into position. Carefully, they brought the enemy ship to a halt.

The whole hangar echoed with the reverberating thud of the raider's underbelly opening up. Adama stood motionless and unphased as the figure of Leoben dropped to the deck from that opening with a heavy thud. The Admiral didn't cringe at what must have been a painful impact of a body against the hard deck. He had no empathy to spare for the Cylon who'd put Kara through a living hell. His own fatherly instinct had him wanting to cross over to the Cylon and drive his fist into its face.

He watched that face break into a smile when it looked up and met Adama's eyes. Just a small pouting of its lip, a widening of the eye, and a tilt of the head. It was subtle, but it sent the message that Leoben was the one who should celebrate victory. Those who caught a glimpse of it wondered if they were making a foolish mistake having him aboard. If it was meant to provoke Adama and the rest of his military personnel, it didn't work. They were too well trained and far too wary to let anything slip in front of the enemy.

Adama remained stony and impassive. The two men refused to look away from each other as three marines frisked Leoben. Their shakedown, while thorough, revealed only a small disk the Cylon was carrying. The marines handed it to their platoon commander, Lieutenant Hoban Wade, who looked it over. After assessing no immediate danger, he placed the disk in a black case.

"Admiral," Leoben greeted with the faintest of formal bows as cuffs were snapped around his wrists. Adama didn't answer but instead observed him, looking for any sign of memories, malice, or weakness. He heard the case with Leoben's disk seal with a click.

"Take it to Mr. Gaeta for analysis," Adama ordered the marine holding the case. The young corporal quickly scurried away, eager to follow orders.

"It's a gift," Leoben spoke, flashing Adama a deeper smile.

"You've offered your surrender. Why?" Adama asked, still not reacting. Leoben noticed this.

"Always falling back on the military training, right? Assess the enemy."

"Why are you here?"

"To talk."

"The truth?" Adama pushed.

"I see suspicion and distrust are still part of military life," Leoben said, raising an eyebrow as a marine put his feet into their own restraints. "Human nature never changes."

Adama's jaw clenched as he recognized Leoben's words from their first interaction on Ragnar station in the other timeline. Ally or foe? Friend or enemy? It would be better to have the conversation in private with Leoben safely behind bars.

"Take him to the brig."

"Where are the Harbinger of Death and the Dying Leader?" Leoben asked raising his voice.

Adama froze at Leoben's words. Dying Leader. "There's no one, absolutely no one, who fits those descriptions aboard," Adama snarled, his fists clenched at his sides. His marines were taken aback by the unusual visceral reaction in their unflappable commanding officer. Some of the soldiers held their guns tighter, preparing to fire.

"You can't keep them from me. It's destined for our paths to cross," Leoben said, tilting his head to the side and continuing to regard Adama even as a marine tried to push him forward.

"You're in no position to make demands."

"No demand. Just destiny. Something we can't escape," Leoben called over his shoulder as the marines propelled him forward.

"Make sure the prisoner is secured," Adama ordered his marines who accepted their assignment with crisp nods. They marched Leoben through the corridors of Galactica toward the brig.

There Adama would further question the Cylon himself. He had decided that he would be the one to confront the master of deception. He was a trained interrogator. He knew how to develop a rapport with a prisoner and glean information. He knew what questions to ask and how to pose them. Tactics. Drugs. Torture. If Leoben had truly come as ally, he'd be spared the less savory aspects of interrogation.

...

Billy scurried off with a spring in his step and a shy grin on his face while Laura turned the other direction and made her way through Galactica. Her chief aide had admitted, with the tips of his ears turning pink, that he planned to surprise Dualla when she came off duty with a simple dinner together in the mess hall. The piece-de-resistance in his plan, he said with barely contained excitement, would be dessert. He'd found some chocolate stashed on Colonial One. Chocolate, post apocalypse, was worth more than its weight in gold.

Laura teased him gently and wished him luck. Her heart went out for Billy, still awkward and sweet as ever. Billy and Dee had both met tragic ends in the other timeline, and Billy was clearly trying to live a better life. It brought back Laura's own happy memories of being reunited with Bill sixteen years ago, and she needed a reason to smile after another long day. The corner of her lips quirked up when she remembered how she and Bill had thrown themselves at each other. Both had been overjoyed at the second chance they'd been given.

Her smile faded when she looked to her side and caught sight of Liam and his slumped posture and downturned face. They made their way to the Admiral's, now the Adama family's, quarters. As they walked, Laura lovingly tried to draw her son out of his mood. Her efforts weren't even causing his lips to twitch into a smile.

"Sweetheart, please tell me what's bothering you," Laura pushed, her tone pleading. She tried to be patient, giving her son a chance to reply. He looked over at her with sad green eyes.

"I miss home."

"Oh," a lump formed in Laura's throat. She and Bill had built a good life together on the Colonies, one in which their son had been raised and had thrived. He'd never had to move houses, change schools, or leave friends. The treehouse Bill and Lee had built him for his fourth birthday had still been his trusty hideout on his fourteenth. He'd played pyramid with the same kids for years. He'd known his best friend Anna since kindergarten and he'd just started getting the courage to ask her out on a date. Now it was all gone and there was no going back. Laura knew Liam had been trying not to think about any of it, and she wasn't going to force him to until he was ready.

"I miss home too," she admitted, reaching out to wrap a supportive arm around him.

"They really took everything from us, didn't they? The Cylons."

"Not everything."

"They took you once. I never forgot," Liam said swallowing hard. Laura remembered the nightmares he used to have, and how often he'd come sneaking into her room to sleep next to her. She'd wake up with pinpricks in her fingers from how tight Liam gripped her hand in his sleep.

"Your dad brought me back. He'll keep us safe now."

"Everyone here treats me so weird because I'm the President's and Admiral's son. They act like I'm going to go run and tattle-tale if someone even so much as looks at me the wrong way," Liam said despairingly.

Laura felt for her son. He was in an awkward and precarious position.

She had just finished implementing a rudimentary school system across the fleet, selecting the best ships to provide education for the remaining children. The basic one-room schoolhouses run by the people in the fleet with the best educational background she could find gave Liam and others like him a place to go and be with other children. It provided the children of the fleet a place to be and a foundation to stand on while allowing many of their parents to work. It was one of many policies she'd marked in her journal to implement right away, making the fleet a smoother and safer place.

One such school was aboard Colonial One where Liam attended. She asked him if he'd made any friends there. He shook his head sadly.

"The other students have a nickname for me."

"What?"

"Little Prince," Liam snorted. "Better not become my callsign." He could just imagine the lifelong teasing that name would provoke after he got his viper wings. There would be Apollo, Starbuck, and… the Little Prince. He scowled.

"You could have a name like Hot-dog. That's what Kara named one of the new nuggets," Laura offered, hoisting her bag up higher on her shoulder. Inside were plans for reinstating the Quorum. She'd gotten her own nickname from one cocky reporter—Queen Roslin. She really didn't need the fleet catching onto this theme and making it a point of contention. This was still a democracy.

Saul Tigh's voice came over Galactica's intercoms. He issued a code that left Laura frowning. It repeated over the speakers again, and Laura wracked her brain for what it meant. Giving up, she turned to her trusted guard with a raised eyebrow. Being a fleet spouse and the military's commander-in-chief had given her a decent grasp on the military and their own unique language, but she couldn't remember everything.

"Prisoner drill, sir," he reported. "They're bringing a captured enemy aboard."

Laura's eyes widened. Her recent dreams and visions flashed in her mind. She could almost smell the dirt and leaves from the forest she'd sprinted through in her dreams until Leoben had found her.

"Liam go to our quarters," she ordered, motioning for one of the guards to follow him.

"Mom?"

"Go!"

For a second, she could almost hear Leoben's voice in the corridor there with them, 'Laura. Laura. I have something to tell you, Laura.' She gave herself a mental shake.

"I'm going to the brig," Laura said, turning and striding toward the cell she'd once been thrown in. She had a nagging feeling she already knew who the prisoner was and hoped she was wrong. They didn't need another level of complication in their lives right now.

…

The squad of marines marched Leoben through Galactica, keeping him moving in the direction of the brig. The Cylon didn't seem to mind the open glares crewmen gave him; they recognized him as one of the Cylon models. He'd become known to the Colonials during the Cylon's bogus peace talks.

They reached the brig where Leoben was pushed inside. It was made of four stainless steel walls, a dark floor, and heavy metal bars bifurcating the room. One-part prison cell, the other part where a guard would be stationed, and it was all barely big enough to avoid claustrophobia. Leoben was taken into the cell and restrained to the chair that had been bolted to the floor. His legs were secured, and his arms were wrenched behind him. Leoben chuckled at the predictability of military hospitality.

Adama entered the cell. His eyes burned with fearsome intensity but there was an almost inhuman expression of detachment on the rest of his face.

"Are you going to hurt me? Break me in ways I didn't know I could break? I can tell you wouldn't give a damn about it. Might even enjoy it. I wonder if your wife knows about this ruthless streak in you," Leoben grinned, but seemed disappointed when Adama didn't flinch.

"Wait outside," he ordered the guards, stepping into the cell with Leoben himself. There was only a fraction of hesitation before the two burly men obeyed their commanding officer.

Adama wielded the following silence like a weapon, letting it stretch and put Leoben on edge. He felt how unnatural this silence was, knowing that it was devoid of the questions and demands Leoben expected to take up this space. Silence seeped into Leoben's every pore like a poison, and the Cylon finally twitched uncomfortably.

"Right now you are a captured enemy combatant. A non-human prisoner. There's no rules for non-human prisoner treatment," Adama began.

"It's deliberately cold in here, right? Keep the prisoner uncomfortable—make them more pliable?" Leoben asked in a curious, light tone.

"It is. And the walls are sound absorbent. I could leave you here. No lights. No sound. Sensory deprivation has a devastating psychological impact on humans. Hallucinations, incoherence, and delusional thinking are the typical results," Adama stated. The unasked question was left suspended in the air—what would it do to a Cylon?

"Interesting you speak of deprivation. I sense the echoes of what this cell has seen in times past. A woman imprisoned. Your own XO deprived her of her medication. Have you ever watched a person going through chamalla withdrawal? It's brutal. Hallucination, incoherence, and delusional thinking," Leoben said, giving a small bark of laughter at the turn-around.

Adama's fists clenched. Was it true? Adama realized it wouldn't surprise him if it was, and his heart physically constricted at the idea of what Laura had gone through in Galactica's own brig. It was another thing she'd never told him about, probably not wanting either his pity or to pit him against his friend. He suddenly had the urge to go give Saul a piece of his mind.

He planted his feet on the deck and refused to move. This was what Leoben did. Tried to get in people's heads and mess with them. He forced himself to stay restrained while Leoben smirked and told him to ask her about it sometime.

"Patrols have confirmed you are here alone," Adama fired the question off.

"I come in peace."

"Your people came in peace on New Caprica. They came in peace at Armistice Station." Adama shook his head. "Cylon peace," he scoffed.

"What about human promises? Your people violated the peace treaty. We found those little stealth ships the Valkyrie tried to sneak across the border. None of our technology was anything like it. Their carbon composite hull was ingenious. It didn't take much to tweak that technology so we could use it ourselves." Leoben shook his head. "Humanity sealed its own fate, and the stream keeps flowing. Destiny is fulfilled."

"Why shouldn't I toss you out an airlock?"

"I brought you a gift. The specs for that technology are on the disk. And I'm sure Chief Tyrol will enjoy poking and prodding my raider into giving up her secrets."

"Then maybe the real question is, what do you want?" Adama asked, still keeping his tone hard but level.

"Don't worry about it. I'll get what I want. It's fate," Leoben said. A second later the sound of the hatch opening filled the air. Adama's blood ran cold when Laura stepped into the room.

"We can't escape destiny, Adama," Leoben said in a low whisper to the Admiral before looking up to address the newcomer. "Madame President," he addressed Laura respectfully with a nod.

"Stay back, Laura," Adama ordered, uneasy at his wife in the brig with Leoben.

"So protective. You think this chair, this cell, can hold me?" Leoben asked, looking up at Adama. The Admiral's eyes narrowed in warning.

"I think you'd better tell us what you want," Adama growled.

"I wanted to follow my destiny. I listened to the hybrid. She spoke of you. 'Two leaders will rise to guide the Caravan of the Heavens to their new homeland. They'll be given a long-wanted gift, a sign of God's plan and the promise of life.'" Leoben looked over to Laura who stepped closer to the bars, clearly interested in what he had to say. "You remember the Hybrid. You know she speaks the truth," Leoben said to her, keeping his eyes on Laura but letting his gaze drop to her stomach. "All children are a blessing from the one true God. Especially the one you carry."

Adama snapped and felt all the anger and frustration he'd been holding back rise like lava in a volcano. He stared at the Cylon in stunned rage. How could he have known? How could the Cylon possibly have known about the child? He heard Laura's gasp of surprise at the Cylon's knowledge of her baby, and his gaze darted over to her. She looked shaken.

The distraction was all the chance Leoben needed.

With an unnatural speed and inhuman strength, he snapped the metal restraining him in the chair like it was paper. He was a blur of motion as he slammed his body into Adama's, knocking him to the floor. Laura was instantly shouting for the guards; she heard the brig hatch open as Leoben darted to the cell bars.

She moved back but not fast enough before he reached through and grabbed Laura's wrist. He pulled her to him. His grip was iron tight.

"I have something to tell you, Laura," Leoben murmured, barely giving the flurry of activity around them the time of day. He looked deep into her wide eyes. "I'm Hephaestus."

Laura shuddered. Leoben was one of the twelve.

"I'm Hephaestus," he repeated. "And I've brought what I needed to bring and delivered the messages I needed. I must return to my people. They need me. You know what needs to be done."

Growling, Laura slammed Leoben's arm against the bars of the cell. Leoben's shock and pain caused his grip to loosen, allowing her to pull away. At the same time, Adama had climbed to his feet and moved to give a sharp blow to the Cylon's head. He might be an old man, but he still had enough muscle and training to cause damage. The Cylon fell to the ground, giving the marines enough time to move in and re-apprehend Leoben.

The Cylon stood there, suspended between the marines. Adama moved to Laura's side. She was breathing heavily and regarding the Cylon.

"What do we do with a deadly machine that has killed your people and threatened your future?" she asked out loud. Leoben grinned. She looked up at the guards. "Throw him out the airlock," she ordered.

…

Later in the middle of the night, Adama couldn't stop thinking back and fixating on each of Leoben's words. The oblivion of sleep would be kinder. Every time he closed his eyes, the nightmares solidified. He felt his hope tested and a sick feeling settled into his stomach. Trying to push it all away, he paced his quarters. Every so often, he glanced between the two sleeping figures of Laura and Liam, and their presence soothed his troubled heart. He might be a stern military man, but he loved his family dearly.

Padding quietly over to Laura's slumbering form, he leaned against the rack and watched the temperate rhythm of her breathing until his eyes began to feel heavy again. Maybe he should try once more to sleep. He raised his hand to tuck a strand of red curly hair behind her cheek and then trailed his fingers down her side to rest on her stomach. It was there now—the slightest swell. His touch lingered there as he tried to let his mind process everything.

His hand warmed when Laura's own fingers threaded through his to rest on her stomach.

"Come back to bed," she asked in a sleepy husky voice. "I've missed you." He knew what she meant. He'd been distant, and they'd had far too many fights over the past weeks. It shamed him to hear his strong and independent wife having to admit her longing.

She gave him a soft smile and flexed her fingers over her belly. "This is a gift."

"Getting you back was a gift. Being returned young enough to have Liam was a miracle. This is tempting fate."

"I'm not the Dying Leader anymore," she said in a soothing whisper.

"Visions? Prophecies? I'm so, so tired of fate, destiny, prophesy… all of it, Laura. Have you ever seen yourself on Earth with our daughter?" he asked.

Laura propped herself up on her arms. "That's what's really bothering you isn't it?" Her husband's troubled blue eyes were all the answer she needed. She inclined her head to the side. "I haven't. You're right. But I have a feeling we still have many years together." She gently tugging him down onto the rack with her and tucking herself against his side. He felt her smile against his bare skin while pulling the blankets around them.

"I need you," he admitted softly into the dark.

"Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block is a terrible thing.


	45. Hand of God

From his rack, Bill listened to the hatch close after Liam tiptoed out. He'd tried to be quiet enough to let his parents continue sleeping, but battlestar hatch doors were unfailingly squeaky. The scraping metal betrayed Liam's escape, but Bill already knew to where his son was running off - an early morning sparring session with his brothers and Kara.

Finding himself roused from sleep earlier than usual, it seemed pragmatic to get a head start on the pile of reports waiting for him. It was tedious work, but at least there would be an update on the first class of nuggets being trained. Good news. Bill moved to get out of his rack, but a gentle hand tugged him back down. Soft lips found his neck, and he closed his eyes at the sweet sensation.

"What are you doing, Laura?"

"It hasn't been that long, Bill." His wife's voice was scratchy from sleep but had a teasing lilt. He felt her grinning against his skin.

"I have some reports…" his weak protest died as her hand caught his side perfectly. He yelped and laughed as her fingers probed the sensitive spot despite his attempt to squirm away. Laura's sleepy giggles filled the air, and he made a halfhearted attempt to glare at her and grabbed her wrists pinning them above her head.

"Did you just tickle me?" he asked, his tone was incredulous. He kept her trouble seeking hand firmly in his grip. He tried to keep frowning, but the unique mix of laughter, teasing, and mischief dancing in her eyes was so refreshing that his attempt at severity was halfhearted at best.

"According to you, big strong military soldiers aren't ticklish."

He harrumphed then growled in warning when she tried escaping to attack him again. When had she become completely immune to that tone? She was intent on reaching for one of the several spots she'd discovered over the years that would provoke him. She laughed when he held her fast. Despite everything, he smiled. This was playful Laura, and his heart couldn't help but be warmed at the spark it brought into his life.

"Kissing you didn't seem to get a reaction," she explained with an unapologetic shrug at his raised eyebrow.

"You're in a mood this morning," he said.

"I told you a few nights ago, I missed you. Can I have these few moments with the man I love? No emergencies. No fighting. Just you and me?"

Despite the lightness of the moment, there was an intensity beneath Laura's words. Bill heard the unspoken plea – please, please, let us have a few moments to forget everything but each other.

The transition after the apocalypse had been rough on both of them. Knowing what crazy hell being the President and Admiral of the Fleet could and would put them through left them feeling like they were constantly walking on a tightrope with no net to catch them should either fall. It would only take one wrong step. Both of them had been trying desperately hard to use their skill, talent, and 20/20 knowledge of what happened in the other timeline to give the fleet every advantage this time. Their mission had them stressed and spread thin. Even prepared, there was nothing ideal about their situation. Failure loomed like a storm cloud on the horizon, and it carried a steep threat – Dee, Billy, Cally, and others dying too soon, fleet ships lost, and humanity's hope for the future fading.

Then there was the baby to think about. A simple life they'd successfully built to mourn and miss.

Aside from all that, Laura also had every right to be irritated with how distant her husband had been. Bill had been pulling away from her not because she'd done anything wrong, but because his own feelings scared him. The future and its potential failures and losses haunted his dreams. Everything that had happened left him feeling raw, even vulnerable. His natural inclination was to wholeheartedly shove those feelings away.

Yes, his wife had reason to be cross, but this morning found her full of affection. She was playful, sweet, and a little needy, but she trusted him so completely that revealing this side of her was natural. She came giving and seeking the love which she'd chosen to share with him and only him.

He was suddenly kissing her fiercely. Reconnecting with her suddenly seemed as vital as his next breath. She'd slept at his side every night, but Laura was right - they'd been missing and needing each other. His palm slid over the bare skin of her thigh. She whimpered into the skin of his neck, encouraging him.

Bill pulled back and looked at Laura. She was breathing heavily and looking at him with dark eyes. He felt her test the grip holding her wrists - it was iron tight. A smirk graced her lips, and it was then his turn to chuckle. He'd long ago discovered that without cancer to weaken her body, Laura had a hunger, energy, and willingness to experiment which combined with her generosity made her a wonderful lover. This fun-loving Laura was a particularly thoughtful and enjoyable partner.

The building tension both had been struggling with was given a release, leaving a contented husband and wife. They felt relaxed and... safe. Free even. Entwined together in afterglow, it took very little gentle prodding for a quiet conversation to flow between them. They shared their mutual struggle in the wake of the attacks. They talked about their fears at making the same mistakes in this timeline, knowing their triumphs and mistakes would determine who lived and who died. They both admitted how much they yearned for that normal life they'd built together.

Laura stretched with an almost feline grace. "You were saying something about reports?" she teased, glancing at the clock and knowing they needed to get their day started.

"Gave the President a briefing instead," Bill smiled, and Laura's laugh filled the cabin. She wouldn't ever describe him as a funny man, but he had his rare moments. "You do need to have a briefing about the meeting we have on the Prometheus," he sighed, turning serious.

"We should get up."

"It's going to be another long day." His was the voice of a man reluctant to leave his lover's embrace.

"I know we keep dreading what the future may bring for us. There's such a big difference between this time and the last though."

"Yea?"

"Our family. You have all of us. We have you. You and I have this marriage. Everything seems just a bit brighter and more hopeful every time I think of that," she said. They shared one last lingering kiss filled with promise and reassurance before slipping from the rack to get ready for the day.

...

"This seems like a bad idea," Billy muttered, folding his arms.

"Noted," Laura said, not looking up from the report detailing the new Fleet Security Force she'd been reviewing. She noted with relief that the new police force created peace and stability in the fleet. So far, Fleet Security maintained law and order and kept supplies evenly distributed. They wouldn't descend into a survival of the fittest social experiment this time. The strong would not dominate the weak. For now.

"Are you sure about this?" Billy asked, shifting around and glancing at the door.

"Yes."

"We both have seen that having knowledge isn't always better," he warned.

Laura looked up at Billy. Her smile was tinged with sadness. "You seem so much older sometimes, Billy."

"Life. Death. Life," her aide said by way of explanation and shrugged. Experience was a good teacher but not always a kind one. He just happened to have a rather unique set of experiences. He glanced at the door to the Presidential office again. "What does the Admiral have to say about this?"

"Billy," Laura growled with a low undercurrent of warning in her voice.

Billy looked sheepish and decided not to press his luck. He had to admit, Laura Roslin had changed in the time since he'd been her aide once before, but a universal constant seemed to be the certain look she got on her face when her mind was set on something controversial. Whenever he caught sight of that expression, it sent Billy's nerves into a sparking panic that felt as if he'd shoved a hand into an electric socket. He'd been jumpy all morning since catching that expression on her face when he came into work. Then he found out with whom she'd be meeting and had worked himself into quite a state. Billy knew mentioning her husband had been a last-ditch effort in dissuading Roslin from her chosen path.

"She should be here any moment," he grumbled, accepting the inevitable and checking his watch before pacing around the office some more.

"Some of us are trying to get work done in the meantime," Laura said, finding it hard to ignore her aide's pacing and muttering. She sighed. "Billy, Leoben quoted a line from the scriptures. We're caught up in something again - much as I hate to admit it. I don't like talking about the later part of our journey, but trust that I know to be careful with scriptures and the prophecies. Far more careful than I once was. The thing is, I can't ignore something that may have answers for this whole mess we find ourselves in."

"It divided the Fleet once."

"It did divide the Fleet."

"Why aren't you telling Admiral Adama about the meeting?"

"'A Dying Leader will guide the Caravan of Heaven but will suffer a wasting disease and not live to enter the promised land,'" Laura quoted, feeling a lump form in her throat as she choked out the words permanently carved on her heart. She very carefully and deliberately set her pen down after signing the report, folding her hands over top of it. Her pose exuded control as she looked at Billy. "A lot of your memories are from a time when the Admiral and I were at odds. I know you are worried about what another disagreement or coup d'état between us would do to the Fleet. Now, I've told the press I'm not going to talk about my marriage, but I'll tell you this once. I trust and love my husband completely. I know he feels the same for me. As a rule, I try not to keep things from either the Admiral or Bill," she said, watching Billy try and process her words and the intensity in her voice. He still didn't seem to realize in a practical sense how radically things had shifted and evolved from the adversaries turned almost friends he'd witnessed. Could he even hope to understand the absolute devotion between his leaders now? Laura continued. "So, will I remind him of a prophecy that ended with him covering my dead body in dirt? Not until I have met with Elosha to see what it says this time. Then we'll talk." She watched Billy shift uncomfortably.

"You think it's different now?"

"It is. And it's time for answers," Laura said, looking over to where Tory walked into the room with Elosha trailing in behind her. Billy's eyes narrowed at Tory. Laura had revealed who each of the Cylons were including the identities of the Final Five to her senior aide. The poor boy had needed a solid ten minutes before he could form a coherent sentence again. He'd finally squeaked out a series of strangled disbelief sounds before promptly announcing that he'd never liked Tory. Still, he saw the benefit of Laura's plan to keep her Cylon aide close. Keep them all close and loyal - that was the idea. He kept eyeing Tory while Laura greeted Elosha warmly after rising from her desk. She showed the priestess into the private room behind her office.

...

Elosha, this real-life flesh and blood woman who'd been summoned to Colonial One, was as graceful and serene as the phantom guide in Laura's visions. The resemblance between the two was so precise that Laura half expected this woman before her to start whispering the names of gods and mortals. Zeus - Bill, Hera - Laura, Poseidon - Saul, Ares - Jack, Hermes - Billy, Apollo - Kara, Athena - Sharon, and now Hephaestus as Leoben. Demeter, Aphrodite, Artemis, and Dionysus's mortal counterparts were still unknown. For a moment, Laura thought back to the dream she'd had after throwing Leoben out an airlock. 'They're all awakening now,' her guide had assured and warned. Apparently, sharing more precise knowledge of who was awake was not allowed.

The priestess sat in the proffered chair in the President's private room, a mostly bare and unassuming place. As such, Elosha practically glowed in the space as the light caught the gold threads, glass beads, and small gems in her priestess's outfit. Elosha arranged her colorful cerulean robes around her, keeping her bearing dignified but guarded. One never knew what to expect when politicians summoned religious figures, but it was always a cause for wariness in Elosha's opinion.

Laura sat across from her, keeping her back straight and her hands folded in her lap. She was elegant and composed. It helped her feel in control when she was about to take a proverbial jump off the deep end of a pool.

She and Elosha exchanged pleasant greetings, but the priestess eyed Laura with a hint of wariness. It wasn't every day the President summoned one to a meeting.

"I'm sure you heard about the Cylon prisoner we had," Laura began. Elosha nodded. "His words, they sounded...familiar," Laura explained, choosing her words carefully. "He spoke about a Caravan of Heaven and two leaders."

Elosha's lips pursed and she studied the President with intense eyes.

"Are you having me on?" she asked. Her calm voice had and edge that suggested she'd be quite angry if that was the case. The ancient faith of hundreds of millions of Colonial citizens was not something to be mocked or taken lightly. She practically scoffed at the President who sat in front of her. "You've read the Pythian Prophecy and decided that we're living it out," she accused.

Laura swallowed hard at the mention of Pythia.

"What does it say?" Laura asked in a breathy whisper.

"You don't know?"

"I don't think so."

Elosha stayed silent for a moment, regarding the President. Her eyes tried to pierce Roslin's façade, judging her sincerity. She weighed what had been said, analyzing the tone used. The President sounded sincere and curious but almost afraid. Elosha was intrigued. She'd met people who thought they were the living incarnations of scriptural promises before – prophets and teachers alike. Too many of them had egos the size of Gemenon and pockets lined with gold.

None of them had sounded afraid.

Elosha reflected on her own faith. She'd been about to leave the clergy, close the book on her faith and find something firmer to build her life on. Even so, she couldn't help but already see elements of the Pythian Prophecy at work.

"The Cylon did quote scripture. Part of the Pythian Prophecy. 'And the Lords anointed two leaders to guide the Caravan of the Heavens to their new homeland. And unto the leaders they gave a gift of new life, a daughter as a sign of things to come. The impossible child would be born during their journey, and she would be the symbol of the Lords' promise that life would continue."

"Pythia wrote that?" Laura asked in a reverent hush. Her hands had moved to her midsection subconsciously. Her stomach was firm under her palms, just starting to bulge.

"You're not pregnant, are you?" Elosha asked, in a disbelieving murmur. She looked at how Laura touched her belly. It couldn't be…

"I learned about the baby on the day of the attacks," Laura said in a quiet whisper. "Confused the hell out of the doctors when a post-menopausal woman was pregnant. All the tests confirmed it though."

"Oh my Lords," Elosha breathed, slumping back into her seat. "You and your husband, you're the two leaders the Lords have chosen to lead us to salvation."

"Elosha that's...I mean...I don't know!" Laura hung her head, red hair falling to curtain her face.

Elosha noticed how Laura's body shook, and heard the President take a few noisy deep breaths to try and calm herself. Crossing over to the troubled woman, Elosha reached out to take her hands. They were cold. The priestess realized she herself was also shaking. After all, she'd just found the prophesied leaders of humanity. Looking down at their clasped hands, Elosha felt as if she'd stepped from a dark cave and into the sunlight. A deep and profound joy was pulling her up from the ashes of her doubts and disbelief. A refreshing awe and humbleness settled into her spirit.

"What are you afraid of?" Elosha asked.

"Have the scriptures ever mentioned a dying leader or an orb?"

...

Laura and Bill were incredibly discreet with showing affection while in public. They were professionals at work, keeping their personal life away from prying eyes and bored gossip. They referred to each other by formal title while working as did Zak, Lee, and Kara. It was strange to Liam's ears to hear his brothers call their mother 'Madame President' and listen to them constantly use 'sir' to address both their father and mother. They all understood that their family had to be careful and be as professional and above reproach as possible. Dangerous words like mutiny and revolution were not far from the Adamas' minds.

The two leaders sat side by side on a raptor taking them over to the Battlestar Prometheus. Laura had shoved Elosha's revelations to the side for now. Instead, she reflected on Lee's words from a lifetime ago. During Baltar's trial when he was on the witness stand, Lee called the surviving band of humanity a gang. He threw that word out like Laura didn't already know exactly what they were. She was a realist for frak's sake. She was a realist with a solid grasp on history while having also spent time in the inner-city school districts teaching. Naive little schoolteacher? Please. She knew what the struggle for survival mixing with an unforgiving environment could look like.

Gone were the ideal choices and better leaders. The Fleet was left with their President and Admiral trying to make the best choices possible when the only options were morally gray but strategically sound versus the right choice but a disaster for survival. What were any of them expecting when living in their own dystopian disaster? A happy, idealistic frolic across the stars until they miraculously found the perfect, pretty planet? Deep in her reflections, Laura knew that once again humanity could not afford for her to be squeamish about the hard choices that they needed her to make. The hard choices she found herself making again, like a perverse game of 'would you rather' her students used to play. Would you rather throw Baltar out an airlock, or use his intellect to (hopefully) help the people?

She kept her head high. It was her job to remain strong and to keep a semblance of structure in place. The price for weakness would be too high.

Her husband shifted so his side was pressed against hers in the raptor. He was warm and solid - someone she could lean on both figuratively and physically. She was grateful they'd opened up to each other earlier. The return of her supportive husband, with his discreet, loving touches, banished her darker musings. She leaned over to whisper in a low voice.

"Whose idea was full presidential honors when we get to Commander Dagon's ship?"

"He's one who likes pomp and ceremony. He jumped at a chance to show off," Bill said in a disapproving tone.

"So, I guess he's not trying to make me feel like the President?" Laura asked, giving Bill a small grin. He raised a questioning eyebrow, and she explained, "Lee told me that's what you were doing when I came to Galactica the first time officially as the President." Laura chuckled at the memories. "You see, originally, I thought you were just another military commander sounding his trumpets and maybe enjoying how much a fish out of water I must have seemed," she said. Laura still cringed at how bad her first salute must have looked, but her darling husband shown her how to snap off a proper salute. She smiled at the memory of how gentle he'd been as he corrected her.

"You really didn't think highly of me, did you?" he asked.

"Yes and no. And don't try and tell me that feeling wasn't mutual."

In the privacy of the raptor, Adama smiled. "You're right. I thought you'd be easier to handle if you felt more comfortable as the President. What politician doesn't like a bit of ceremony to make them feel at home?" Laura teasingly elbowed his side. "At least, you don't need anyone helping you feel presidential this time."

She was pretty sure he went on to mutter something about 'bullheaded determination' under his breath, but there was a ghost of a smile that lingered at the corner of his mouth. He had a point. Her journal had helped. In it were all the lists of what she needed to do there, all the things that could have been better, and she'd been implementing each item on her list with an almost terrifying determination.

A strangled groan filled the room, and both of them looked over at the other raptor passenger. Doctor Baltar was sitting with his head thrown back and his hands knotted in the fabric of his pants. Neither of them could see Six sitting on his lap. This time Baltar's crazy blonde temptress had chosen to simply sit on her prey's lap. She had already talked herself out about God for the past half an hour as Baltar gathered his research and joined the Fleet's leaders in their raptor.

Those leaders had decided to ignore the man. He was lost in his own world anyway.

"ETA one minute, Admiral, Madame President," Racetrack reported from the cockpit.

Galactica didn't have a traditional Battlestar Group. As a result, Bill Adama hadn't before led a group of commanders and colonels who each held command of a Battlestar or escort ship in their own right. It was hitting him how daunting of a task that was. That's good, he thought. A good leader feels his responsibility and doesn't take the job lightly. As the raptor came into the hangar bay, he felt the weight of this command settle on him as he caught a glimpse of the personnel rushing into formation on the deck through the windows. The Prometheus's XO was yelling loudly enough that they could hear it inside the raptor, ordering the deck into formation.

"President of the Colonies, Admiral of the Colonial Fleet, arriving."

Somewhere in Adama's mind it clicked - this wasn't just an honor guard for their President's first arrival on their ship, but a gesture for their Admiral's visit as well. In fact, they would always render some sort of honor for his arrival due to his rank if they continued using standard military protocols. Bill let out a quiet sigh. He really hated pomp. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Laura now had her polite politician's smile on, but Bill could tell she was ready to go throw all the ceremonial crap, the gloves, the cords, and the silly fake rifles, out the nearest airlock. He suppressed a chuckle at the thought.

Stepping off the raptor, there was the usual exchange of salutes. He was pleased that Laura had taken his lessons to heart. Symbols meant something. He might hate pomp, but saluting helped reinforce respect and hierarchy. Respect and discipline lead to efficiency.

He listened to Laura say a few respectful words to the gathered crew. They were polite and political, but he could tell they were sincere. He noted the crew seemed to sense this as well. He said a few words after Laura finished. Neither of them flinched under the intense scrutiny of the crew. Who were these leaders? Can we trust them? Thousands of eyes demanded tried to find the answer.

After what seemed like an eternity, but really wasn't much time at all, the Commanders, the Admiral, and the President made their way to the War Room of the Prometheus. Dagon's battlestar was the most state-of-the-art warship in the Fleet. It was the biggest too. It was why this meeting was being held on the Prometheus. It didn't hurt that Dagon had also needed a visit from the leaders of the Fleet before he got too big for his uniform.

The personnel assembled around the War Room's map table. Commander Dagon stood at the head, pulling up the briefing package he'd been sent. He looked like he'd stepped out of a fleet recruitment poster. He had buzz cut salt and pepper hair, sharp grey eyes, height, and a well-toned body. No wings were pinned to his chest. Instead there were two crisscrossed rifles denoting his past as a Fleet Marine. Few marines ended up commanding battlestars. Most marines were enlisted, and their officers knew their way around a rifle blindfolded but less about commanding warships. Dagon had risen through the ranks though, having a natural leadership ability or at least the ability to intimidate the people around him into doing his bidding.

Adama felt sharply reminded that Galactica was supposed to be his punishment from the Fleet after the stealth mission debacle. The military gave their pretty, sparkly, new toys to good boys like Lawrence Dagon.

Prometheus was clearly a pretty, sparkly toy. Large screens with interactive touch interfaces were scattered around the War Room. In the center was a large map table. Galactica's table required printed overlays to be placed on the table. Prometheus boasted a high-tech touchscreen table. Dagon had it now displaying an orange moon with a Cylon base positioned on the surface.

Laura began the briefing, bringing everyone up to date on the dwindling Tylium stores. Food, water, and oxygen remained stable, but with how large the Fleet was, they burned through fuel. Without more fuel they'd be forced to decide what ships would be left behind.

"The Cylons are sitting on the only sources of fuel within our reach," Adama said, taking over his section of the briefing. He gestured to the moon displayed on the map table. "This one has enough Tylium to last us years."

"Staking out every watering hole in the Galaxy, knowing we need fuel as much as they do," Commander Pertinax said.

"Enough firepower to keep it," the usually quiet Commander of the Valkyrie said.

"Cylons will be guarding every Tylium source with firepower. There's no guarantee we can send the raptors out far enough in order to find a source they haven't reached yet," Dagon spoke up, already sensing the oncoming battle.

"We are going to take the Tylium from the Cylons," Adama said.

"Hardly the time to attack a superior force!" Valkyrie's commander exclaimed. "A superior force we can't even detect on sensors."

"It's exactly the time, Commander," Adama countered. "They don't know we've overcome their stealth technology. Doctor Baltar?"

Everyone's gaze shifted to the scientist. The man took a hard swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing clearly with his discomfort at the scrutiny of too many military personnel. He disliked being confronted with a group of people who weren't going to fall for his charms.

Calmly, he laid out his research. He did his best to ignore Six, trying not to give reason for the military to lock him up and throw away the key due to insanity. He explained that with the information provided by Leoben he'd found a way around the Cylon's stealth technology. Baltar presented new DRADIS protocols that would allow Cylons to no longer remain hidden.

Excitement pulsed through the room.

"If we do this right, there will not be any Cylon survivors. The Tylium will be ours," Adama said.

"If we fail?" Dagon challenged.

"Disaster. So we don't fail." Laura said.

Adama laid out the plan Kara Thrace had come up with in the last timeline. She'd tweaked the plan they'd once used to take the Tylium, adding in the extra manpower they had from Valkyrie, Daedalus, and Prometheus. The target flashed onto the map table, and the officers analyzed the image. Continuing the briefing, Adama pulled up the coordinates to where Valkyrie, Prometheus, and Galactica would jump followed by the decoy's positions. The Commander's looked excited but unsure. Adama was reminded of how very little combat the Fleet had seen in years. These people had no experience attacking the Cylons like this. He could tell Laura noted their expressions as well.

"We need to destroy their military facility, without harming the Tylium under the surface," Pertinax said, leaning on the table and looking at the surveillance images of the base.

"Radiation would render the ore inert and unusable. But a conventional warhead targeted, here," Baltar said, tapping the map, "will generate a sufficient explosion to destroy the base and leave the ore." The man got a strange look on his face. 'How do I know that?' He asked himself.

'Seems familiar doesn't it?' Invisible Six asked, stretching out over the table and running her hand along the map. 'God speaking to you from a distant dream, guiding your hand…' Gaius glared at the space above the table where only he could see Six.

"That is your target," Baltar said, trying to ignore grinning Six.

'So forceful, so decisive, delivered with such elan. God speaking to you and you listening.'

'Is the fate of humanity depending on what might be just my wild guess?' Baltar thought to himself. Yet, part of him knew it wasn't a wild guess.

'God doesn't always speak in words, Gaius,' Six said, moving away from the table to circle the room. She took a particular interest in Dagon.

"How many ships do we expect to lose?" Dagon asked.

"It'll cost us. But if we succeed, they'll think twice before attacking us again," Adama replied.

"The plan's been approved; civilians are already being relocated off the decoy ships. Good hunting," Laura said.

"Operation will begin in forty-eight hours."

...

Lee stared at his viper, his ship was now covered in a crisscross of dings and scratches. Its hull told the story of too many close calls and near misses. Zak and Lee were quietly sitting near him. Zak had plopped down on some storage crates, content to play solitaire with some cards. Liam was up in the viper's cockpit looking at the controls and occasionally asking a question. Kara was not there - she was holding court in the officer's mess. There was no knee injury putting her out of commission for the mission this time. She'd be flying along, and everyone seemed grateful that their top gun would be leading them to victory.

"Kara says fear can get you killed when flying," Liam said. Lee felt a rush of irritation at even his own little brother quoting Kara on the eve of the mission that he was the one theoretically leading. Liam poked his head over the side of the cockpit and looked down at him with big curious eyes. "What do you think though? Are you afraid of tomorrow?"

"Yea. A bit. I won't lie. People are going to die tomorrow. The second I get in the plane though, well, I don't have time to be afraid anymore. There's a job to do."

"Sometimes you get so busy you forget that you even should or could be scared," Zak told Liam, looking up from his cards. He'd be joining the search-and-rescue raptor teams tomorrow as one of the Fleet's few qualified field medics. Liam looked between his two brothers and nodded slowly thinking of what they said.

"Can't sleep?" A deep voice asked. The boys turned and regarded their father who stepped down the ladder to join his boys by Lee's viper. Lee gave his dad a halfhearted smile and shook his head.

"I couldn't either before a big op." The Adama boys relaxed when it was clear their father was there as their father and not the Admiral. They listened as he talked a bit about flying his own missions and how he felt during the time spent waiting for a mission to begin. The boys hung on his every word, but Lee stared at the viper in front of him.

"Got something for you," Bill said, pulling something out of his pocket. Lee felt his shoulders slump at the idea that his father needed to give him a good luck charm again. He covered his feelings. No one knew he had memories of the other timeline yet. How could his father know that he remembered the last time he was given the ol' family lucky charm. "It belonged to your grandfather. My mom bought it for him when he was in law school." Bill placed the lighter in Lee's hand.

Lee traced his grandfather's name etched onto the metal, wondering if Joseph Adama would have been proud of him. His grandfather had defended the Tauron Mob in court, but what would he have said to his grandson defending a man who accidentally helped commit genocide.

They stood in silence for a moment. 'He's a better father than I was,' Lee remembered his father once saying after handing him the lighter. The words didn't come this time, Lee noted. Bill Adama had been a better father in this timeline, Lee could admit that. And yet, there were still the memories of an uncaring father who was never there clogging his mind. Was it only what happened in this second chance that mattered? He wondered.

"Dad used to carry that into court cases. Claimed he never lost unless he left it behind."

"It feels like this whole ship only thinks this mission will succeed because Starbuck planned it and Starbuck is leading it. I love her but..." Lee shook his head.

"She's not leading this mission. You are, Apollo. She's a better pilot than you and me, sure. But you're a better commanding officer," Bill said. Lee looked at his father.

Bill nodded up toward Liam, and whispered to Lee, "I want your brother taking after you as a pilot. You are someone who can remain calm and collected in danger and think a situation through."

"Really?" Lee asked, stunned at the admission.

"Yea," Bill dropped his voice so only Lee could hear. "You're his hero, Lee. He looks up to you. Both your brothers do. They always have. I couldn't ask for a better role-model."

"You sure?"

"Always have been. You're my son." He looked at all his boys. "You're all my sons, and I'm proud of the men you are turning out to be." He said.

"Dad..."

"Get some sleep," the Admiral ordered. Enough emotion had been expressed for one night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: It probably could do with another proof-read, but I am running off to a work trip soon. May the grammar gods forgive my indiscretions.
> 
> I think I'm coming out of the writer's block phase. Adama and Roslin reminded me that this is mostly their story, so they got some fluffy time.
> 
> I could use some lovely words of encouragement if you have a few. <3


	46. I Can Dance

Her death would be quick and very, very public. He wanted the Fleet to watch it live, so that everyone would know when her life force had left the world. It needed to be visible, so that the people could see the void in leadership and know that it needed to be filled. Her life force seeping from her body while the people watched would be the perfect display and catalyst for revolution.

The gun he'd acquired was heavy and solid in his hands. After a thorough examination, he was satisfied the military-issue rifle would get the job done. Its scope would allow him the freedom to take a distance shot and then watch the chaos unfold. He collapsed the weapon down small enough to hide in his x-ray proof briefcase, sealing it within a hidden compartment.

...

"Sure there's whining and complaining like you would expect, but the people I've talked to are mostly hopeful and optimistic," Ellen giggled, a shallow sugary sound.

"Well, that's good to hear," Laura replied in forced cordiality, but to the observant ear it was clear that Madame President would be happy to airlock Ellen's, admittedly Cylon, ass.

The Fleet had been fleeing from the Cylons for a few weeks. In the other timeline, roughly the same amount of time had passed between the attacks and that Ellen's return, an event which prompted another... notable... dinner. As before, the evening was a descent into madness, a fact which surprised precisely no one. At least during this get-together Ellen wasn't dancing on the table or trying to pull Laura up onto a bar to strip with her (this had happened more than once, and each time Bill hadn't known whether to be alarmed or intrigued).

"Not everyone is convinced that having a kindergarten teacher as president is the best idea, but they're just a tiny, tiny, tiny minority," Ellen teased.

"Wonderful, wonderful," Laura ground out through clenched teeth. She forced the smile to stay plastered on her face. Being pregnant made it infinitely harder to be social with the Tighs - she desperately needed some forbidden ambrosia to dull their presence. A gag would do as well. Laura's smile became a little more genuine as her thoughts meandered.

Bill couldn't quite hide his smile at Laura's irritation pushing against her usual polite and quiet demeanor. He'd heard that tone before. It reminded him of another dinner. 'So many parallels between the timelines,' he thought, 'and not all of them bad.' There were differences too. In this timeline at this dinner Laura Roslin wasn't trying to figure out if he was a Cylon. He remembered feeling boiling rage at someone even suggesting that he, a man who'd experienced the pain of a bitter divorce and losing a beloved son, could be nothing more than a Cylon fabrication. Now, he was married and all three of his sons were alive and...

"Boys!" Laura snapped, and Bill looked around the table trying to figure out what happened during his traipse down memory lane. Zak looked ready to tip his ambrosia over Lee's head. Lee was glaring at Liam who blushed scarlet red. Saul was shaking a finger at Kara. They'd all frozen at Laura's sharp rebuke. Family, Bill grinned. He wondered what would happen if he tried that tone in CIC next time Saul showed up smelling too much like whiskey and cigars.

Ellen laughed, "maybe a kindergarten teacher is just what the fleet needs! That tone! Well. Boys will be boys no matter how big you've all gotten." Ellen took a long drink of her ambrosia before looking between all the Adama men. "Zak and Liam really are your spitting image, Bill. Daddy's boys. But you, Lee, you take after your mother La..."

"Can I be excused? I have important work to do with security for the first Quorum meeting tomorrow. Or is there a particular reason we were all gathered for this distracting little get-together?" Lee asked, cutting Ellen off. He winced when Kara kicked him under the table and shot him a warning look.

Laura licked her lips nervously, "actually, we have news we wanted to share with you."

"Laura's pregnant," Bill blurted out awkwardly, bringing the evening to a crashing halt as everyone froze and gaped at them with eyes wider than Virgon's moons.

"How?" Saul asked, and at Kara's facepalm he shook his head and rephrased. "How?!"

Kara opened her mouth with an undoubtedly snarky reply about how when a mommy and daddy love each other very much, and Laura couldn't stop the giggles that bubbled out of her.

"Was this a joke?" Lee asked, glaring at his father.

"No," Laura said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "But we realize it's a little surprising, let's be honest, because of our age," she couldn't stop smiling as she reached out and took Bill's hand on the table. "Yes, we are having a baby. I learned about it on the day of the attacks, and Cottle has confirmed it."

"Really?"

"Oh my Gods!"

"So, instead of..." Lee trailed off, shaking his head.

"Boy or Girl?"

"Can I trade in Lee?"

"Congrats, Old Man!" Tigh said, toasting him with a shot.

"Well, Bill, I didn't realize you were so... virile," Ellen flirted, giving him a heated look over the table. She remained oblivious to the way Laura's eyes narrowed at the blonde. Bill realized he really may need to have a guard posted at all airlocks. Indefinitely. Although, the possessive side of his commander in chief was certainly interesting.

...

Valance booked passage onto Cloud Nine. Flung across his desk were his travel documents and papers. Money gathered in wads stuck out from underneath the mess - a useful tool for bribery. Clutched in his left hand was the summit itinerary. With a blood red inked pen, he circled the events Laura Roslin would be at.

The rules inside the structure of concrete and metal he'd been thrown in were different than those in the free world. Valance had come in, a Sagittarian with a talent for taking weapons and making them disappear into unseen hands. In the first month of prison he'd acquired debts that he couldn't repay and painted a target on his back by provoking the Taurons. He tried to hide in his cell once he realized he was drowning in this new world and might not have much longer to live.

Tom had shown up in his cell, looked him up and down, and then casually asked him to sit next to him at lunch. Valance would like to say that lunch was a good memory, but the other Sagittarian had teased him mercilessly until the whole prison was laughing at him, sounding like a roaring thunder. However, a good and thorough public humiliation seemed to release some of the debts he owed. But it was Zarek clapping him on the shoulder at the end of the experience, calling him an idiot and telling him they were going to be friends that kept him alive. He knew that deep in his bones. He'd wanted to punch the egotistical 'revolutionary' in the gods-damn face, but they'd become allies if not friends.

Valance owed Zarek everything.

...

Kara glared at the sky. Fake sunlight...it just didn't feel good unless there was a dose of ultraviolet radiation mixed in, threatening to burn her skin which craved the heating warmth of a real sun. Maybe Kara was just in a bad mood because she was forced to listen to the Colonial Gang spout off their salacious opinions. She could laugh about them calling people like Wallace Grey fatuous gasbags, but her teeth clenched when they called Roslin a fascist. She wanted to march over and yell at them about how stupid they sounded and maybe throw a dictionary at them as well.

There were more than a few times Kara wished Roslin was a fascist like they claimed. That sentiment applied to both timelines. If Roslin would just go ahead and behave like the fascist they purported her to be, she could put stupid civvies in their place when they started getting annoying or downright pushy. Kara grinned, if Laura was a dictator like they implied, she'd most certainly allow her adoptive pseudo-daughter to throw quite a few reporter butts into the sewage reclamation system.

Thinking of unpleasant things, her dear fiancé had kicked up a stink all day. Kara was teetering on the edge of dumping him in sewage reclamation. They'd been checking over the security details on Cloud Nine, particularly the setup that would protect the family fascist. Kara knew she was taking it far more seriously than she had last time. There was no way in hell she was going to look into her sort-of-brother Liam's eyes and tell him she'd failed to keep his mother safe.

"How's your wallowing going?" Kara asked, reaching out to hold Lee's hand. What could she say? Kara liked physical affection, skin to skin contact felt good. She also had no qualms about feeling up Lee in public. Making him squirm was a game she particularly enjoyed playing at the opportune moments.

"Not wallowing."

"How's sulking going?"

"Not sulking."

"Pouting?"

"Kara!"

"Well, spill!" Kara snapped, having little patience for coaxing emotional discussions out of people. "You should be skipping along the grass and enjoying the imitation weather. I want to see you frolicking though some frakkin' roses at the fact that you're getting another sibling. And I know your brothers can get on your nerves, but they are all alive! Your family is alive..."

"My mom's dead!" Lee yelled. "But I get that my dad wants to forget her and forget that time with us. No. Now he's got another baby, another second chance, another reason to forget everything that doesn't fit into this rosy reality."

"Lee, what the hell! You haven't spoken of your dad like this..." Kara stopped. She did remember Lee ranting about his father in the other timeline just like this. She looked at him with narrowed eyes. "He's been there for you."

Lee's muscles tensed, and he refused to look Kara in the eye. Instead he watched marines and officers going about their work on the large spaceship. Green patches marked those from Prometheus, Red for Daedalus, and Black for Valkyrie. Survivors. So many more people had survived this time, he knew that.

"Ellen forgot my mother even existed. Laura came into my family, and it seems like nothing that came before that matters," Lee said, barreling on and ignoring anything Kara said.

"Because there was a lot of love lost between you and Carolanne? How old were you when you watched her get sick from too much booze the first time? When did her mood swings start? How many times did she hit you and promise never to do it again? How long had it been since she even tried to talk to you?"

"Frak you!" Lee growled, marching away from Kara. Feeling like her nerve endings were practically on fire from irritation alone, Kara threw her hands up and stomped off in the other direction.

Kicking at the grass, Lee thought of what Kara said. He should be happy, he knew that. His mind was getting so frustrated trying to make sense of the two lives shoved in his head. Lee froze when he saw two figures in the distance. Dagon and Zarek we're walking and talking in the gardens of Cloud Nine. That can't be good, he thought.

...

Think before you act. That had been Zarek's four favorite words of wisdom to repeat over and over again to him. He'd done so much for him in prison, Valance could do this for his old protector.

Valance grinned and deliberately met the eye of the security guard as his bag was scanned. He held the woman's gaze just long enough to seem honest and trustworthy before looking around and acting the part of curious citizen of the Twelve Colonies. He let another guard examine his badge.

"Have a nice day sir," the woman said, sliding his bag over to him, the x-ray machine having not revealed the rifle in it. Valance smiled again and thanked the woman demurely before joining the throng.

…

Not too far away from Valance, a receiving line welcomed the newly elected members of the Quorum of Twelve and associate personnel onto Cloud Nine. Despite the darkness the apocalypse, the people were seeing the light. Their civilization, their way of life was moving on and rising from the ashes. Ellen was right, the people were hopeful and optimistic.

At the head of the receiving line, the beacon of hope and optimism, stood a smiling Laura Roslin. The fire of determination smoldered in her as she saw her old friends and colleagues. 'It'll be better this time', she mentally promised each person whose hand she gave a firm shake. 'You'll see it this time - a beautiful blue and green planet with puffy white clouds that Kara loved.' She laughed easily with delegates, glowing under the imitation sunlight.

Every so often, she'd remember seeing the blood on Colonial One's walls from her assassinated Quorum. She'd feel a sudden shiver run up her spine when she saw someone in person again even though her shaking, weakening hands had hung their photos in the Memorial Hall. Every time, every single time those thoughts tried to pull her down, she straightened her back, squared her shoulders, and beamed at the next person in the receiving line. 'Avow and affirm that I accept the Office of the President,' she reminded herself of the oath she'd sworn, finding strength in her purpose and focus in her mission.

"Madame President," Sarah Porter greeted. Laura welcomed back the woman who'd supported her when Laura took on the mantle of Dying Leader. Sarah hadn't hidden her disappointment when the Dying Leader hadn't died on schedule. In the end, Sarah had died on New Caprica, in a Cylon raid on the Temple of Artemis. Laura felt relieved that the fate of the Fleet seemed far less tied to her mortality this time.

"Nice to meet you," Marshall Bagot said upon meeting her. He'd joined her faction when the Fleet split after Bill's little coup. He'd mostly joined in support of Zarek, but Laura had gotten to know him a bit in the past two weeks after helping organize a repair team for his ship. He seemed reasonable enough.

Reza Chronides came after Bagot. She was just an aide right now, but it looked like Commander Dagon, present as the second highest ranking member of the military, didn't know what hit him. The vivacious woman flounced past and he looked mildly dazed. He wasn't used to flirty women trying to take a nibble out of him in public quite the way Reza could.

"President Roslin," Jacob Catrell's grip was solid and strong, matching her own. He didn't smile and Laura remembered what a tough nut to crack he'd once been. She respected how committed he was to the wellbeing of his constituents. He'd been quiet but genuine. Loyal. Loyal to democracy, the Fleet, and to her until Zarek killed him. Cantrell had originally taken Tom Zarek's place with the Twelve as the Sagittarian representative. This was the Sagittarian group Laura was greeting which meant the next person would be…

Laura took a deep breath and braced herself. She felt her body flush with a sickening anticipation. This would not shake her, she decided. She'd come too far and faced too much to let an old injury distract her from being what her people needed - a fierce leader.

"If I were to offer you my hand in friendship, would you take it?" Her green eyes blazed.

"There's only one way to find out, Mr. Zarek," she smiled, accepting his hand and giving it a firm shake. Her stomach churned as their skin touched and she had to look him in the eye. In that moment, Laura realized she was willing to put a bullet right between Thomas Zarek's eyes if he threatened anything, she held dear.

"Remember, I'm not your enemy," he assured her, trying to charm her with his smile and charisma.

"I have no doubt," Laura replied, knowing that she truly had no doubts about the man standing before her. She knew exactly how she felt about the man, and despite the molten anger burning her from the inside out, her expression didn't falter. She didn't flinch. Cameras flashed around them, taking in the auspicious meeting of the former terrorist and the President of the Colonies. By outside eyes, it appeared to be going well.

"Judge me on my actions, that's all I ask."

"Well that will most certainly be the case."

"I'll do what's best for the people."

"As will I."

"It would be a shame if we couldn't find a way to work together, Madame President. There's such potential a partnership between us could have."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said lightly before turning her attention to the next person in line, refusing to deign to give her old nemesis any more attention. She sensed Zarek moving away from her and with each step he took the muscles in her body relaxed and she breathed a little easier. There were parallels between the two of them; the determination, fire, resolve, intelligence, and sheer ferocity when push came to shove. There was one absolute difference between the terrorist and the schoolteacher though. One fundamental fact that made Roslin different from Zarek and even Baltar - the number on the whiteboard meant everything to her and nothing to them.

…

Zarek's heart hammered in his chest and the noise in his ears sounded like a runaway freight train. Meeting Roslin again, it jarred him, left him reeling and spinning.

In the seconds, minutes, hours, and the days leading up to Colonial Day, Roslin's image pushed to the forefront in his mind. He growled and protested his brain bringing up the face of someone who didn't even deserve to be in his thoughts. He hated her. He disliked the polite political establishment she represented. Gods, he wanted to kill her!

He hadn't expected her to be practically glowing when they met again.

The Roslin his mind had remembered was pale and frail. She'd been skin and bones, looking like a gust of wind might lift her up and take her away. They'd all changed as the years wore on, so he'd forgotten how she'd looked in those early days. Completely forgotten. The Roslin whose hand he just shook was all fire and fierceness - red hair and a crisp power suit letting everyone know who the boss was.

He wanted so badly to stand next to her on the dais of the ballroom. They could lead their people together. Side by side. He had good ideas for the Fleet, brilliant ideas for the future. But he was nothing to her.

…

Don't attract undue attention. That had been one of the most important rules he'd learned in prison. So he sat alone at a table, quietly looking through meaningless papers while knocking back a drink. He knew this plan of his was foolhardy, and he wasn't going to risk meeting the Lords of Kobol without a drop of good strong Sagittarian beer in his belly.

…

Laura hadn't expected to hear from her husband before heading into the Cloud Nine ballroom. She was waiting in an antechamber, thinking and strategizing when the call came through.

"I was listening to talk wireless. Wanted to hear your voice," he explained when Laura answered. She smiled and felt a warmth filling her soul.

"You're just the man I needed to hear from before going in to run this circus," Laura said, letting his voice soothe her nerves. She was starting to feel raw, but the deep, gravelly tones of her husband's voice worked their magic and put her at ease. She loved his voice. It was warm but commanding, deep and rough, but gentle and held such love for her. They confirmed it was a secure line before continuing to talk.

"You're insane and I don't like this," Bill informed her in a light tone as if commenting on the weather.

"Yes, I know."

Her husband gave a pronounced and disapproving sounding grunt in response.

"It doesn't help that no one is behaving like they're supposed to," Laura said, thinking of all the ways the timelines diverged between the two Colonial Days.

When Baltar received his nomination to the Quorum of Twelve, he'd rejected the nomination. He'd said something about politics being a dreary, boring realm that held no interest for him this time. Tom Zarek, despite her knowing deep down that he was still full of hot air, had not spoken out against her. His revolutionary rhetoric had been practically tame. Laura's behind the scenes political machinations didn't seem to be needed. Wallace Grey sat as the Caprican representative. She'd taken pains, while trying to not be overt about it, to ensure Bagot, Porter, Asiel, and Burian would be more inclined to vote as their President wanted.

"You've been pretty...ruthless in your political maneuvering."

"There was nothing I could do about Zarek though."

"Airlock him?"

"He hasn't spoken out against me. He hasn't made any threatening overtures against the government. Did you hear him on talk wireless?"

"I try not to listen to garbage."

"He sounded almost...supportive," Laura said. "I don't like not knowing what game he is playing."

"Politics."

"As exciting as war."

"I hate Zarek sitting on the Quorum. He shouldn't be allowed anywhere near you," Bill grumbled. The second she said the word, he'd kill Zarek himself and he wouldn't lose a bit of sleep over it. The only thing easing his worry was that Laura let him look over the security preparations for the first meeting of the Quorum. The Fleets best marines were there. Galactica's roughest, toughest bastards were assigned to her personal detail, augmenting her secret service protection. Boomer hovered close by with her augmented Cylon senses, with Apollo and Starbuck ready to jump into action if provoked. At least, he hoped Starbuck waited until she was provoked.

He frowned, feeling an antsiness tingling along his skin. He'd been in command for a long, long time and thus removed from the front lines of action. Yet it was there, wave after wave of anxiety surging against a seawall of calm he'd built, urging him to jump into a raptor and join his wife and elder children on Cloud Nine.

"These are the games I have to play, no matter how dangerous. You know I'd love to airlock that man and maybe a few others. But this Fleet is too big, too diverse, and too opinionated for you and me to even try to rule by fiat. We need to play by the rules. Sagittarians are a sizable chunk of the population. We kill their hero and it gets out - it will be a disaster. Dagon is a Sagittarian. Do you think he wouldn't have the nerve and the resources to strike back at us and our family?"

"Laura...just be careful."

"I'll come home to you," she promised, noticing Billy walk into the antechamber. "It's time. I've gotta go," she said, and they exchanged goodbyes before Laura followed Billy into the ballroom where the Quorum delegates were assembled.

…

The delegates accepted her as the woman they could trust to be their leader. Some of them expected to see a mousy schoolteacher - someone meek and mild who'd be easy to walk all over. It wasn't a stretch to expect the former Secretary of Education turned President to be crumbling under the weight of what remained of humanity. Instead, they found a realist with a heart. Roslin was someone clearly in control but there to serve. She offered order and a chance for stability.

When she addressed the first item on her agenda, the nomination and election of a Vice President, and put forth Wallace Grey's name as a candidate, it was met with open approval. Was Wally the perfect Vice-Presidential candidate? No, Laura would admit that. But she never claimed to be a perfect President either. They were just survivors caught in a stream doing their best not to drown.

…

Zarek didn't seem to know what hit him.

Wally had just been elected Vice President of the Colonies.

This time, Zarek had played the part of subdued renegade. He hoped it might win him a bit of Roslin's favor. He'd played nice, acting like a good little boy in the hopes that a bullet wouldn't find its way into his head again. He had no doubt that if he gave any of the Adamas a reason, he'd find himself on the wrong end of a rifle. Once was enough, he thought. He had nightmares about his execution detail. It hadn't felt as good as he expected, dying for a cause. Looking down the barrel of the rifles, he knew his name would be forgotten. Being lost to time was something he could never accept.

He'd formed a new plan for this second chance. It was his hope that playing well with others in the kindergarten teacher's sandbox would mean that he would not be frozen out of actually doing something in the government. He'd told the reporters with all the smooth-talking talent he possessed that he would be the voice on the Quorum for the disenfranchised. Pretty sounding promises were made. The right words, he dealt them out to the reporters like a professional gambler. Nothing too controversial passed his lips. He kept his head down and his more - explosive tendencies in check.

And yet, the election was over so fast someone may as well have pistol whipped him. His head certainly felt like someone had. He had contingency plans though.

Laura stood at the center of the ballroom before the Quorum leading the meeting as if she'd been born to do this. Poised and graceful, her voice was strong and confident. He had to admire how well she played her part. Marines were stationed behind her, and Zarek scoffed at the less than subtle support from the Fleet's leading military strong man for his political strong woman.

No one expected the gunshot.

No matter how far away the shot sounded, well outside the Cloud Nine ballroom, the sound brought back the pain. For an instant, he felt the piercing pain of Adama's bullets and a warm feeling all over his body as they drove into him. He remembered cracking sound slamming into his eardrums just a fraction of a second before feeling metal being slammed into his body. Then, nothing.

This gunshot split through the air, echoing around the marble. A cold sweat prickled his skin, and caused his shirt to stick to his back. He'd died. Holy frak, he'd actually died. That sound had been the last thing he'd known. No wonder he was playing it safe.

The guards had instantly tensed around Laura, hiding her from view. Delegates looked around, searching for the source of danger. Someone screamed.

Senses sharpened with adrenaline, Zarek held his breath straining to hear with every bit his concentration. Cool air from the air filtration system whispered around him.

They heard a door open from behind them.

…

"Drop your weapon!" Lee yelled his weapon raised and pointed at the man he'd been chasing. He'd seen Valance and instantly panicked, ordering the man to freeze. He chose to run instead, making it all the way to the observation deck of the ballroom ad he and Starbuck raced after him.

Everyone in the ballroom turned and people gasped in alarm at two colonial warriors brandishing their weapon at the man. Valance stayed very still, cornered. There was no doubt that if he hadn't, he'd already have met a bullet with his name on it.

Valance swallowed hard and met Zarek's eyes. The final two rules of prison flashed in Valance's mind. Take responsibility for your mistakes and...loyalty. The military could make him talk. They'd learn about his plan to kill Roslin and create a power void Zarek could slip into. He knew they'd make him talk. Can't trust the military, he knew that for a fact. No. He was caught, and he wasn't going to take his friend down with him. They'd find a connection, or, worse, they'd pin his actions on Zarek. He'd just tried doing what was best for everyone - put someone strong in position who he knew could keep them safe. Zarek deserved a chance to help more underdogs like him.

He met his friend's eyes.

He didn't have time to assemble the rifle. With a smile, Valance reached into his jacket and pulled out the hidden smaller sidearm, aiming it at the dais even though the marines had closed ranks around their President.

Shots rang out before he could even raise the weapon.

Valance was dead before he could hit the ground. Suicide by cop. Kara squatted down to check for a pulse and remove the gun.

"How did you know?" Kara demanded, looking up at Lee.

…

"Citizens! I give you your new Vice President, Wallace Grey!" Laura announced as the music pulsed over the crowd. The Fleet wanted to celebrate after the first successful meeting of the Quorum of Twelve, and the media was eating up the story of humanity's return to civilized ways of doing things. The party was a riot of color and everyone was more than a little hyped up. Some partiers were giddy, and others were already drunk. They cheered on their new Vice President as he made his way through the crowd while Laura took up a spot on the outskirts of the dance floor.

She hoped to the Gods she was making the right calls. Letting Zarek into the Quorum and maneuvering Grey into the Vice Presidency would have lasting repercussions.

"You're still standing," a deep voice from behind her broke her broke her reverie. A contented grin spread across her face as her husband came to stand beside her. A happy memory brushed at the edge of her mind.

"So are you."

"And I still dance."

Laura chuckled as her husband slipped his hand in hers and lead her to the dancefloor. He pulled her close against him, so that they were pressed together from cheek to knee. Laura hummed in relief at having survived the past few days and being back where she felt happiest. She felt the ripple of muscle under her palms and the familiar smell of wool and aftershave. His hand rested against the small of her back sent a pleasant tingling thrill up her spine. They spoke softly of the past few days, and Bill tried his best not to get worked up about Valance. Now was the time to relax.

"This is where we started, isn't it? Dancing on Colonial Day, far too close," Laura asked, letting her head drop to Bill's shoulder as they swayed to the jazzy music.

"Yea," Bill said, remembering the fateful day when he'd seen a woman instead of a President. He'd been struck by two things that night - that Laura was a beautiful woman, and that she looked as lonely as he felt. Leadership was a solitary place to be, and there was only the two of them at the top. He remembered how she'd nodded her head to the music, clearly enjoying the rhythms and melodies but no one asked her to dance. Something stirred in him, an understanding and curiosity for her.

It had surprised him how much he wanted to dance with her even then. In each other's arms, they'd flowed across the dancefloor with a mesmerizing grace. Their bodies had known how to speak to one another even though verbally they were both still guarded. But there in his arms Laura's sensuality shone through the cracks in her cool, polite facade. Under his fingers he felt her soft curves and had been mesmerized by her body. The shy looks she'd shot him all night had given him the distinct impression that he wasn't the only one experiencing such intruding thoughts. If he felt like indulging in a little self-indulgent honesty, it had felt good to have a woman look at him with some heat in her eyes despite his age and was a poignant memory.

Now, Laura shifted slightly in his arms, letting herself settle down after being so keyed up for the past couple days. He smiled. It was the simple joys that made life worth living. Dancing with the woman he loved was one such pleasure. He felt Laura smiling against him.

All around them politicians, bureaucrats, and Fleet personnel let their hair down and made their way across the dance floor. Everyone moved like they'd forgotten how to stand still. Billy danced with Dee. Well, their limbs moved in jumbled and only slightly rhythmic manner. Nearby, Ellen and Saul were turning dancing into foreplay. Lee and Kara were in the corner of the room having some sort of heated exchange. Dagon and Zarek were at a table conversing quietly and looking far too conspicuous as they tried to look innocent.

"I wonder how that Bill would have reacted if someone told him he'd end up marrying his president," Laura suddenly teased.

"He would have voluntarily reported to Cottle to have his hearing examined," Bill said, and Laura giggled in his arms and the sound made the soft light more golden and the fire ignited in him.

"Will you invite me back to your quarters this time, Admiral?" she flirted, and felt the rumbling of his chuckle in reply.

His grip tightened on her. It thrilled him, knowing the ring on her finger meant that there was no use in pretending she was anything other than his beloved partner. He felt his love run hot through his veins and jolt through the full length of his nervous system. His wife was beautiful. She was as flawed as any human, and he knew that, but Bill found her perfect for him. And now she seemed even more breathtaking and perfect than she had before. She was his wife, carrying his unborn child, and mother to his sons.

"The old me could never have imagined how lucky he would be," Bill said.

"Neither of us could have imagined this," Laura agreed. They might not have known it then, but even on their first Colonial Day they belonged to one another. Fate had brought them together, and they both willingly, happily stayed. Laura shuddered at the brief thought of how awful it would cut her to lose the man she danced with. She'd never recover.

She closed her eyes and let him continue leading their dancing, losing herself in his solid warmth. Try as she might, she couldn't quite push away the creeping thoughts of the hell she would live in if he was ever taken from her. Maybe it was seeing Zarek again. Maybe it was her dreams whispering about others who had their memories back as well. Maybe it was her own fear. Maybe it was her proclivity for prophesy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You readers are awesome! That's all. Just awesome.


	47. Planet K74656

He smelled it again, a wisp of floral scent. Lee held himself at attention, more rigid than a hard wood plank. The scent drifted through the CO's quarters and tried to lure him into relaxing into its embrace. Capricorn roses, Lee realized. The delicate smell mixed with leather, wool, and musk, but Lee refused to relax in the space. He was on the other side of the desk facing the stern face of his commanding officer and father.

"How did a potential assassin get past some of my best officers to take a shot at the president?" the elder Adama asked in a low voice. His hands were folded over the spread of papers on his desk, and he looked up at Starbuck and Apollo, his gaze demanding answers–immediately.

Lee swallowed hard and in a flat voice described how Valance circumvented the x-ray machines and kept a low profile. There had been nothing to flag him in the system as a threat other than previously being a prisoner on Astral Queen.

"How did you know he was a threat? Why did you fire first?" Adama demanded, his eyes narrowing at Lee.

Lee refused to shift from foot to foot under his father's gaze. Instead he picked a spot on the wall and stared at it. He poured all the pent-up frustration into his gaze while his muscles clenched, holding him to the spot. His jaw tensed, refusing to let his mouth open and respond. Starbuck beat him to it anyway.

"Oh, he frakkin' recognized Valance," Starbuck snapped. Waves of irritation rolled off Kara, as there had been since the realization he remembered had hit her. Kara had practically ripped his ear off with her verbal assault at his withholding of the information.

"Recognized?"

"Starbuck…" Lee warned.

"From the other timeline!"

"You remember," Adama marveled, standing and bracing his hands on his desk as he regarded his children before him. There was the briefest flash of happiness in his blue eyes. The relationship with his son had been fraught with difficulties in the other timeline, but they'd mended their relationship. He'd watched his son flounder and then grow into a man he truly was proud of. He wanted his son to remember that he'd still loved him after everything they'd endured, and knowing he'd gained those memories was a relief. But he hadn't shared that he knew. He'd left his family in danger. "You'd rather stay silent instead of warning us about Valance?!"

"I thought you'd have it taken care of," Lee ground out, still staring at his point on the wall. He wasn't going to flinch before his father.

"None of us can remember every detail from the other damn timeline!" Starbuck interrupted. "There are two lifetimes shoved in our frakkin' brains and it helps when you can rely on…"

"Starbuck," Adama warned, unwilling to let a lieutenant, even a favorite, rant out of turn. He'd called them to his office. He'd called them to attention to debrief them. "You're dismissed." He needed to have words with his son.

Kara scoffed, gave a crisp salute, and stalked out of his quarters without sparing Lee a second glance. Holding a neon sign proclaiming her irritation with Lee wouldn't have made it any clearer how truly peeved she was with her fiancé and wingman.

Lee finally tore his eyes away from the wall, and the two Adama men stared each other down. Lee felt the urge to shift from foot to foot overtake him again, but he stayed stiff and still. Heat coursed through him at their obvious judgement. It burned his blood and slammed into his chest. Still, he stood steady.

"Not telling me you remembered is bad enough. Not telling your fiancée... What were you thinking?" Adama growled at his son, the full weight of his admiralty rank behind his words. He was mad, and Lee dared not refuse.

"You all liked this Lee better. How was I supposed to tell anyone? How was I supposed to tell Kara that I remember ordering her into her bird when she wanted to be benched and that decision leading to her death. Was I supposed to come into your quarters where you're playing happy families with Laura and tell you both I remember being so angry with you that I ripped her apart on the witness stand? Things were fine like they were," Lee said, letting the angry words pour out.

He took a deep breath, the smell teasing smell of Caprican roses filling his nose. Laura's perfume, he finally realized. It mixed with his father's books, wool, and aftershave. They were all intertwined now, for better or worse.

The elder Adama stared at his son. For a rare moment, Adama was genuinely surprised at the words his son spoke and the well of emotion behind them."We moved past all that…"

"So far past it that everyone easily left me alone once we got to Earth," Lee gave a bitter laugh. "See, I remember you all leaving. I was alone on earth. And I died alone on Earth. I remember being lost and frozen cold. But, now you know, and if there isn't anything else, I request permission to be dismissed," Lee said, his eyes snapping back to his point on the wall.

It pierced his heart to know that Lee had died alone. His eldest son had always been a people person. He revelled in attention. Tortured images flashed in Bill's mind. He imagined the long period of harsh loneliness and numb frostbite his son went through. He could see Lee sitting in a fraying tent, exploring the new world having lost its appeal as the wilderness stretched before him. The state of raw abandonment would have swallowed Lee's sanity whole. His son had never liked being left alone. Adama could picture Lee, lost and alone willing to do anything to feel the radiating heat of another. He might have welcomed death knowing that he might be joining others soon.

Still, he didn't regret leaving Lee that final time. Lee didn't need to see his father succumb to the grief his love's death had brought him. Bill had broken beyond repair. He wouldn't share how when the dirt hit Laura's face, it buried his soul too. There was no coming back after that. His world became shadows and every breath felt hollow in the chest. No one would witness the depth of his pain.

Adama, shell shocked by the bomb Lee had just dropped on him and unable to find the words to comfort his son in the moment, dismissed him in a hoarse voice.

…

Boomer felt a shiver, like the sensation of someone walking over her grave. Ironic, since Cylons didn't bury their dead. Although, if someone had been inclined to bury a previous copy of her, someone could very well have walked over her grave. Creepy. These weren't the type of thoughts to have in the middle of the night. The time was o dark thirty - Galactica's graveyard shift. It was a darkened time that tried to simulate the night when very few people should be out of their bunks.

Was it her imagination or had the air stirred around her? The hairs on the back of her neck were standing as though a faint breeze had passed over her skin. Boomer looked around, uneasy.

Jittery hands smoothed imagined wrinkles out of her uniform, trying to erase any trace of her illicit encounter that someone might find. She'd done a far better job keeping her rendezvous with Chief Tyrol discreet. Away from prying eyes, they were safer. If there was no sign of fraternization, she wouldn't be forced to end their relationship. Boomer wasn't inclined to give up the man she loved.

A few deckhands prowled around the deck, gruff and irritated at landing the unfortunate shift. There was always a standby crew ready to put vipers in the sky should the death dealing Cylons decide to ruin someone's sleep, tryst, or midnight snack. A few knuckledraggers gave Boomer a passing glance as she strode by. Boomer refused to look at them, not wanting to see the knowing smirks on their faces as she put more distance between herself and the tool room.

A shiver went up her spine, and Boomer bit her lip to keep from gasping. "What's wrong with me tonight?" she asked herself. She felt her adrenaline spiking, and knew she was too restless to go back to her rack. She meandered along the hangar deck, the large area perfect for pacing and brooding.

Boomer ran her hands over the equipment and ships in her path. She felt the rough metal of a patchwork job, a sharp tool, and the dampness of spilled oil. It was a habit she'd picked up, running her hands along what she walked past. The sensations reminded her of how very alive she felt. The spilled oil made her cringe and recoil. The sharp tool made her slow down and glide carefully along the edge. The patchwork job made her smile as she imagined Galen's frown as he chided the deckhands for their poor job. He'd have done much better.

Galen was too busy with his latest toys. They'd brought the rest of the ships over from what was going to be the museum. His latest toy was the 'Wild Weasel' raptors. He was upgrading the jump capacity on the vessels. Once he was done, Sharon couldn't wait to take one for a spin.

Helo would have loved to ride shotgun with her in one.

Helo. Her silica pathways sparked his image, unbidden, into her mind. Boomer had abandoned him on Caprica again. Sharon 'Boomer' Valerii wondered if her Cylon duplicate had thoroughly tricked the poor man into falling in love and having their own assignation. Nothing like some solid emotional manipulation to build a lasting relationship, Boomer thought to herself as she circled the 'Wild Weasel' deep in thought. She wondered again what had made her sins so much greater than Athena's. Her sister was conscious of her mission and manipulation. Boomer had been programmed, forced. Her Cylon sister had married and had Hera.

Stop. Stop, Boomer ordered her mind, trying to pull the plug on the invading thoughts. They'd made their choices then and now. Boomer was able to choose her shipmates, her family. For the time being at least, Helo was gone. There was no way to know if she'd ever see her ECO again, or if Athena would get to play house again.

Boomer's own conflicted heart needed to figure out if and when she should tell Chief the truth about her Cylon nature. She wanted to build something real. That meant honesty and...

Boomer heard a faint shudder. A slight creak. She turned, looking around the hull of the raptor for who made the sound. She moved around the ship, a familiar silhouette taking shape as she moved. Boomer's heart pounded in her chest, and the rush of blood roared in her ears. Somehow, the silica pathways in her brain kept her calm enough that her fingers closed around a wrench she passed by.

"Stop!" Boomer commanded, raising the wrench.

"Hello, Sharon," a familiar voice crooned.

"How can you be here? What are you doing?" Sharon demanded, hearing the quiver of fear in her voice.

"I was sent. Maybe you can help me," Boomer's duplicate replied, staying very still. Boomer noted the bag she was holding, and grew worried at what dangerous devices might be hidden within. She pulled herself up ramrod straight and looked at her mirror image. I made my choice, she remembered. I made my choice.

"I'm a Colonial Officer now, and you are under arrest as a prisoner of war," Boomer said.

The other Sharon laughed at the words, but when Boomer didn't join her mirth, the enemy Cylon realized this wasn't a joke. The upturned corners of her mouth dropped, her brown eyes narrowed, and she gripped her bag tighter. Without warning, the enemy Cylon turned and sprang away.

Fueled by the need to protect her shipmates, Boomer launched herself forward with an extra burst of speed. They darted around ships, keeping out of the sight of the deck crews, both of them knowing two copies of one person would attract far too much attention. There was a burning in Boomer's lungs and an ache in her arm from the heavy wrench. Closing the distance between them, her hand closed around the other Sharon's hair, and she yanked the girl back. Without waiting for the Cylon duplicate to put up a fight, she brought the wrench down, slamming the metal into her head. Nothing was going to threaten her family.

The other Cylon stilled, lying unconscious on the floor. The cold reality of the situation set into Boomer's being as she realized the implications of the situation. Frak, she thought, breathing heavily as she looked down at the figure of her copy. Oh, frak.

Thinking quickly, she took off her jacket and dropped it over the face of the other Cylon, obscuring her from view. There was only one person she trusted to help her in a situation like this. One person she could rely on to help her.

…

It had been days since Laura had last seen Bill smile. The lines on his face were drawn tight. His brows were always furrowed. Even in private, there was a tension surrounding her husband, surrounding both of them really. All of the Adama family felt the strain. The rift with Lee was like a monster that had reared its ugly head and made them all wary and uncomfortable. Meanwhile, Laura and Bill were handling yet another crisis facing the Fleet.

A new sickness creeped through what remained of humanity. Ship by ship, the captains reported new cases aboard their vessels. People were panicking. At first, it seemed like a minor cold or flu. Then an elderly lady aboard the Scylla died, and the death toll began. Each number Laura erased from her whiteboard hit her hard, leaving a sad ache in her chest.

The military wasn't spared. The Valkyrie had already been hit hard, and the first case had been discovered aboard Galactica, but the hardy men and women were holding on. Bill worried for his crew. He needed an enemy he could shoot down, but their lives were filled with far too many dangers his troops and planes couldn't face head on.

Laura had been horribly sick all day but proudly and stubbornly fulfilled each of the day's presidential duties and obligations before trudging home. When she still felt nauseous as the evening hours drew on, Bill, anxious and overprotective, practically dragged her to sickbay. He'd held his breath until Doc Cottle assured them in a gruff voice that she was not sick. The doctor, despite assuring them that Laura was in fact going to live, insisted on doing another thorough check-up on her and the baby. Laura's patience snapped, and both men's ears rang with her sharp, sharp rebukes about their overreacting. "Calm the neurosis, gentlemen," she ordered.

Ears still ringing, Bill looked at her with those concerned blue eyes of his. He tilted his head and held her gaze. Laura saw the stress weighing him down, the circles under his eyes. He'd been living on coffee and she could smell a trace of it in the air.

"Please, Laura," he said in a low voice, squeezing her hands in his. "I'll get you home as soon as Cottle's done."

She loved him too much to add to his worries, so she nodded her acquiescence.

After enduring the exam, Cottle, with what passed for a Cheshire grin on his face, informed them he'd almost finished the genetic profile he'd done for the miracle baby. He had wanted a full work-up done since she was an impossible child. Laura flinched when he called the baby impossible. Her foreboding flooded back into her mind. The Pythian Prophecy. Her dreams. The sense that something ugly was coming. She barely heard Cottle ask them to take a pass on airlocking him on the off chance that he was wrong, before telling them what they were having. She already knew. It was already written. Her heart still leapt when Cottle confirmed it.

The Pythian Prophecy rang in her ears at every step Bill and Laura took back to their quarters. Her body thrummed with excitement and joy, while her mind whispered dark warnings.

'And the Lords anointed two leaders to guide the Caravan of the Heavens to their new homeland…'

Laura was reminded of the time there were dark clouds over their house on Caprica. The rain poured down on them, but she'd taken toddler Liam to the window and pointed out the distant sunshine and rainbow.

As they returned to their quarters, Laura couldn't stop sneaking glances at her husband. He hadn't smiled in days, and even for a man of little expression, it was noticeable how the stern look seemed permanently carved onto his face. Even his eyes had dimmed. He often smiled only with his eyes. A little spark to let on when he was amused or happy. As the years passed, the blue depths were unable to hide any emotion from his wife of sixteen, almost seventeen years. After the appointment, Bill's eyes were alight with relief and happiness. He grinned openly with happiness.

He guided his wife gently through the hatch of their quarters, a solid hand on the small of her back. Joy surrounded him, as if his soul were soaring high.

Liam waited on the couch with his nose buried in his father's military books about the first Cylon War. The scene was a perfect blend of his parents—the love of reading, his mother's love of history, and his father's love of the military. Their son, despite his charm, sensitivity, and caring nature was determined to be a viper pilot like his Old Man. To Bill's simultaneous relief and horror, Liam was a natural in the flight simulators. He'd clearly inherited his father's flying ability and was under the direct tutelage of Starbuck, who ran him through flight training simulations when she had time. He snapped the book shut and looked up at his parents as they sat on the couch with him.

"What did Uncle Jack say?" he asked, his eyes wide.

Now in their quarters, Bill's face broke into one of his rare full-faced smiles. He couldn't help it. Laura could see how it came from deep inside, lighting his eyes and spreading to every part of him. The breath caught in Laura's throat. He was beautiful. Maybe not handsome in the classic sense, but when his grim face gave way to a full-faced smile, it was breathtaking to her. His bearing contained power and strength with more than a hint of unyielding single-mindedness (like when dragging his reluctant wife to the doctor). Here, his guard came down and she saw Bill. Laura felt privileged to see a Bill who couldn't stop smiling. Warmth and love rushed through her.

'And unto the leaders they gave a gift of new life...' the prophecy said.

"Mom, Dad?" Liam asked. A slight smile lit his face as well as if his father's grin was infectious. Perhaps it was.

"Everything is fine. Good, actually," Laura assured her son. "We have some news…"

"You're going to have a sister. Well, a younger sister. Doc says it's a girl," Bill said, his heart clearly ready to burst. A full grin spread out on Liam's face.

'A daughter as a sign of things to come…' Those words from Pythia fulfilled a decades-long dream of Bill's. He would hold his own infant daughter in his arms, and Laura knew it would be one of the happiest moments of his life.

But Pythia spoke of other moments too. It was written that there would be trials and tribulations that the people and their leaders would face. The words spoke of a time when a leader would look to the heavens and cry out for the partner taken from them. Laura knew she couldn't fight the coming fate any more than she could change the endless stars in the sky. Their life had always seemingly been building toward fulfilling the prophecy, and as Laura looked at her son and husband, she knew she would never wish this life away, come what may.

Whatever was coming, Laura let this moment of happiness warm her, as if their family's joy was a blanket she could wrap herself in. Her dreams, their dreams, the good ones, were coming true too. They were going to have a little girl with the chestnut hair of her mother's family and blue eyes from her father's. Their daughter would be a wild little thing with her mother's fire and her father's determination. Her brothers would teach her all kinds of things. Laura knew a matching smile was on her own face.

A moment of pure happiness.

'The impossible child would be born during their journey…'

Their journey. It was one crisis after another. The pandemic threatening to overtake the Fleet was just the latest event in a long line of things trying to kill them. After spending some time with her boys on the couch, Laura gathered up some reports and collapsed into the rack. Her body ached, but she couldn't help the small smile still playing at her lips. She listened to Liam and Bill on the couch talking about the book he'd been looking at before pulling open a report and reading.

She'd dozed off when a weight on the edge of the rack caught her attention. Opening her eyes, she saw her husband still grinning like it was Saturnalia morning. He reached out, nearly covering the bulge of Laura's stomach with his large hand. They'd discussed telling the Fleet within the week, knowing they couldn't hide their secret any longer. Laura was already pushing it as it was.

'She would be the symbol of the Lords' promise that life would continue.'

"I'm going to have a girl," Bill said reverently. Laura placed her hand over his.

"A daughter like you always wanted. Well, another one." Kara would always be their daughter, blood or not.

"You've given me so much, Laura." There was so much emotion in his voice as he marveled at the gift he was being given. He didn't find himself particularly worthy and knew he'd made more than his share of mistakes. He didn't always understand how Laura had come to love him like she did, but there could be no doubt of her affection as the tips of her fingers traced the hand covering her stomach. A daughter, he thought. A daughter. He knew he was smiling again.

"Bill, we need to talk," Laura said softly. "I think you need to know something, and I'm not quite sure how to tell you."

"You can tell me anything."

"I know. But this… this is hard. You see, it's about the Pythian Prophecy…"

A buzz from the comm brought the conversation to an abrupt stop. Bill, heart pounding and thoughts racing, didn't tear his eyes away from Laura's wide eyes as he picked up the comm. The Pythian Prophecy...

"Adama."

"Sir, it's Boomer. Code blue."

…

They had to be out of their gods-damned minds, Dagon seethed.

His blood boiled at the sight of a Cylon in Colonial uniform. His fingers itched to tear it off her undeserving robot frame. That uniform meant everything to him. It meant blood and honor. It stood for suffering and sacrifice. His comrades-in-arms had fought the Cylons. Too many of them breathed their last while wearing Colonial blue. Now the leader of the military, the last Admiral in existence, placed his trust in a Cylon instead of in the Commanders of Battlestars. They should have been told about the threat in their midst. Instead, he and Madame Airlock had allowed a known Cylon to live in their midst ever since the attacks.

A little piece of paper now protected the machine. A little slip with fancy words presented to the Cylon during this meeting that the president had called. Dagon refused to think of her as 'Boomer.' Call-signs were reserved for humans who'd earned their monikers. Toaster—that's what she could be called. Dagon could barely even let his mind use the human name the Cylon went by. Their joke of a president had written the name over the top of the presidential pardon she'd issued, giving Sharon Valerii both a pass on the destruction of the Colonies and granting her gods-damn citizenship.

The Commanders had protested, jumping out of their seats and red with rage. They were only willing to listen when Adama ordered them to sit down and pay attention, and it was only the years of ingrained military discipline that kept them in line. Some of the others' rage cooled when they learned the Cylon had defected when she warned them about the incoming attack. "Too late," Dagon had growled.

"There are thousands of civilians alive because of Sharon Valerii's work with the rescue teams. She did not directly participate in the destruction of the Colonies, and, in fact, aided Colonial forces during that time," Roslin explained. "Thousands."

"Her intelligence has proven valuable. She has been continuously monitored," Adama added, sensing the simmering anger underneath the surface of the group. "She goes above and beyond to protect her squadron when flying combat support. She's rescued pilots from each of our ships when flying search-and-rescue."

Dagon scanned the others present as they all eyed Sharon warily. They wanted to believe Adama. He sensed that. They wanted to trust the Old Man at the top and believe he couldn't make such a profound error in judgement.

Standing before them, the Cylon delivered her report on what happened with her duplicate on the hangar deck. Present at this debriefing was President Roslin, Vice-President Gray, Admiral Adama, the barely-legal-looking aide Dagon could never remember the name of, one of the Adama runts who was a little lieutenant, Galactica's Officer of the Watch, and the other Battlestar Commanders.

They listened closely, but none of the others seemed to realize the danger the Cylon still represented and what an insult letting her wear the uniform was. Cylon-lovers, Dagaon fumed, glancing at Adama and Roslin who were seated in the middle of the table. They'd lead humanity to their end if this was how they were going to play the game. Wait until Zarek hears about this, Dagon thought. His fellow Sagittaron would have an idea how to handle this debacle.

Protected by her pardon, Boomer answered the questions the others present in a level voice. Dagon sensed the cold detachment in her. Maybe it felt no emotion at betraying her people. Maybe betrayal didn't compute, Dagon thought, raising his chin and staring daggers at the robot-girl as Adama dismissed her from the floor.

"Lieutenant Adama, what's your report?" the Admiral asked.

Dagon watched as the called upon officer stood. The boy was clearly tired. He blinked weary eyes several times before they could focus. He remembered the boy was a medic, and Dagon sat a little straighter in his seat. Combat medics were a respectable group, he believed. Keeping their fellow soldiers alive sometimes through grit and determination alone.

"Doc Cottle and his medical teams analyzed the vials found in the Cylon's bag. We've concluded that the contents were concentrated doses of the virus plaguing the Fleet. It was designed to be released in liquid," he explained. Dagon listened as the lieutenant provided further details on the analysis. He didn't understand some of the medical jargon used, but the basic gist was that the Cylons were trying to poison them now.

"It's in our water supply," Zak Adama said. "We can't filter it out. We've tried. We do know that continued ingestion of contaminated liquid will prove fatal. The medical teams are providing what relief we can to the affected patients. The best we can do now is eliminate all contaminated water supplies and hope the infected get better."

"How much water will we lose?" Dagon asked, not wanting to waste any time before getting to the pragmatic reality they faced.

"We're..." Lt. Adama, shook his head and looked toward his parents. His shoulders slumped. "We're estimating that we'll lose 80% of total water reserves. Fleet-wide. Boomer's twin has been busy."

Mutters rippled through the room. There were a few grunts of irritation and despair from several of those present.

"We'll put stricter water rationing into place," Roslin said, addressing her curly-haired aide. "It'll buy us some time. Alert fleet security to prepare in case rioting breaks out over rationing."

"We need a source of water," Adama said.

"Universe is a pretty dry and desolate place when it comes down to it," one of the Commanders replied.

"Well, we're in luck."

Everyone turned their attention to the Officer of the Watch. Gaeta, if Dagon remembered the name correctly. He had some navigational charts and reports spread before him. The sudden and intense gaze of so many high-ranking people in the Fleet seemed to glue his mouth shut as the tips of his ears turned red.

"Luck?" Dagon growled.

"Planet K74656," Gaeta replied quickly. "Records have it marked as containing water. I was going to suggest jumping there to tank off on our water supply. This many ships in the Fleet puts a strain on the reserves."

Dagon watched Adama's face with mild fascination. It was like a shadow had passed over him. Something had happened, but Dagon couldn't quite tell what. The others waited for the order from their commanding officer, but the Admiral hesitated. Planet K74656, Dagon thought—there was nothing he could remember about it in reports.

Dagon watched Roslin reach out and cover Adama's hand lightly with her own. It seemed to bring him back to the present. He felt the familiar sense of unease at the amount of power the two of them wielded together.

"Plot the jump," Adama ordered in a gruff voice. "Everyone is dismissed."

...

The personnel filed out of the wardroom. Laura, knowing something was wrong, stayed behind after dismissing Billy. Once the room was empty, Bill stood and paced away deep in thought.

"Bill, what's going on?" Laura asked gently. She watched her husband take off his glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose. "Bill?"

She slipped over to him, resting her hands on his chest and searching his eyes for answers. She could feel the tense muscles under her palms and his strong heartbeat. When Bill finally met her concerned gaze, there was such a swirl of turbulent emotion. His face remained hard as he spoke.

"Planet K74656… it's Kobol."

Memories flashed in Laura's mind, and she didn't even draw a breath before wrapping her arms around his neck and melting into his solid frame. His own hands instantly folded around her back, drawing her close. She was shaking as she remembered how they'd discovered Kobol and the nightmare that surrounded the planet. She could never forget the time when William Adama had been her jailer, and she could never unsee when Lee was thrown into the cell beside her with her jailer's blood covering his hands. So much blood. She remembered desperately wishing Lee was lying, or that somehow it had all been a mistake. Even behind the bars and in the early days of their rocky relationship, she had prayed for her jailer and clung to the hope that he'd be alright.

Laura clung to her husband. Her grip tightened as the image of him fighting for his life pushed in her mind and the Pythian Prophecy whispered in her ear. Tears slipped down her cheek as her foreboding mixed with her memories.

"'All this has all happened before, and will all happen again,'" Laura croaked. Bill kept running a hand through her hair, cradling her head where it rested on his shoulder. "'Zeus warned the leader of the twelve tribes that any return to Kobol would exact a price in blood,'" she recited.

She felt a calloused thumb wiping tears away before Bill pulled her back to look into her eyes.

"Not everything happens again. This marriage has changed events. I'm not throwing you in the brig. Boomer won't shoot me. It's going to be alright."

Their marriage. They'd survived betrayals, treason, military coups, and a thousand other things. Nothing had ever destroyed the bond between them. Over the years they'd only ever grown more devoted to each other. They both knew that they'd fight tooth and nail to return to the other should anything happen. They were partners in joy and happiness but also in trial and hardship. It comforted Laura to feel the band on her finger know she had the unending love of the man before her, as he had hers. And, yet, something ugly was coming. She could feel it, like it was in the room there with them.

"Why do you sound as worried as I feel?"

"It's Kobol. It's… I don't know."

"I understand."

"Whatever happens, we face it together this time."

"Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: well, after auto-save wasn't turned on, I lost this chapter and had to rewrite it. Rewrites are painful. Oi.
> 
> Kind words are always appreciated for this now very weary writer. Thank you to my super awesome commenters! I love hearing from you!


	48. A Cost in Blood

Lee had avoided Colonial One since the Fall, since remembering. Galactica already triggered an unending landslide of memories that constantly tried to bury him under kilotons of emotional weight. Stepping foot on Colonial One would be like trying to walk across an entire field of emotional land mines. On the ship, there were reminders everywhere.

'Captain Apollo has such a nice ring to it,' Laura once told him that right there in that cockpit right after she'd openly defied his father. She'd bestowed a nickname on him and had seen him as his own person and as not just the son of the great Adama. Those were the early days, when he was a bright-eyed viper jock who wanted to feel important. He'd felt powerful at the right hand of the newly sworn in president—valued apart and even above his father for the first time in his life. But then he and Laura fell from their pedestals, broken statues that had been raised too high and perched too precariously by the people around them… and by each other.

Walking through Colonial One, Lee felt crowded. These ceilings were low and the seats close together compared to the large corridors of a Colonial warship. The carpet muffled his footsteps, not the usual metal under his shoes, as he passed deeper into Colonial One. He heard her voice, the usual inviting cadence of his stepmother's voice had transformed into a sharp weapon. She ripped into someone with tightly controlled and well placed shots as she defended Boomer's place in the Fleet.

"She's caused less damage than you have, Mr. Zarek," Laura said, her words slicing like a well-oiled sword. Zarek. Lee pushed the curtain aside and stepped into her office, thankful to see she wasn't alone with that man. He saw Laura bracing herself on her desk, eyes blazing and hair aflame as she squared off against her nemesis. She looked powerful and absolutely in control. Her presence dominated the space. Lee knew his dad would kill Zarek if he saw how the man faced off against Laura over her desk, his body shaking with barely-controlled rage as he clenched his hands into fists. Hell, Lee was tempted to take him down right now and damn the consequences, but her Vice President was at her side, keeping a wary eye on Zarek—not that it looked like Laura needed help. Reza Chronides stood at Zarek's side, looking between the delegate and the President like one might watch one of Virgon's old soap operas.

"She's got a point, Tom," Reza smirked, and Lee could picture the look of murderous rage that would have flashed in Zarek's eyes.

"We're not finished," Zarek hissed, pushing away from the desk and turning sharply to leave, a wounded animal going to lick his wounds and wait for a better moment to strike. The second he turned and Lee saw his face, a cold shiver ran up his spine. Bile, thick and acidic, burned his throat when Zarek's eyes met his own. Lee forced himself to keep still as Zarek passed.

"He'll huff and puff, but you've proven you can handle a good storm," Reza said, watching Zarek leave before turning back to Roslin. "My ship and many others were saved by the Cylon. It's not something we'll forget."

"It's divisive, Laura. I think I understand why you and the Admiral decided to pardon her, but it's a powder keg. Next time, consult me maybe?" Wally sighed. "I'm going to work on a press release," he said, guiding Reza out of the room with him, leaving just Laura and Lee.

Slowly, Laura dragged her gaze to Lee's. The look that passed between them left no doubt that Laura had been told Lee remembered. Lee stood up straight, swallowing hard as if he could push all emotions down as well.

"Madame President, I'm looking for Lt. Thrace. Flight records show she took her bird here," he said, clasping his hands behind him so that he stood at what might be described as parade rest. His tone was polite. Too polite. It was like he wanted to believe that walking or talking softly over the land mines would cause them to stay inactive. He watched the hurt flash in Laura's eyes and the green fire Zarek sparked dim to an almost grey ash as she took him in.

"Kara wanted some space. She's trying, actually trying, to keep her cool right now."

"I need to talk to her, I want to explain and fix things," Lee said, like Kara has a cut he can press a band-aid to. No. Kara was drowning her sorrows in Chief's moonshine just in the other room, and the only thing that putting a smile on her face was teaching Billy how to down bad hooch without gagging to death. Billy was more than happy to listen to the cutting remarks about Lee Adama and his 'stupid inability to just be gods-damn-frakking-honest!'

"Lee, you wouldn't have something to fix if you hadn't broken it," Laura reminded him, deciding she would keep to Kara's wishes and deny Lee entry. Maybe if he'd come with apologies instead of excuses.

"So, we've established, once again, that I can't make a mistake without people hating me for it."

"Your one man pity-party won't help you see Kara. She deserved to know and you knew the missing memories bothered her. But keep feeling sorry for yourself when all of us suffered in the other timeline."

"We all suffered, but I died alone!" Lee raged, breaking out of his parade stance to pace. He ran a shaking hand through his hair as the memories assaulted him. "I never saw my dad again after he flew off with you. You dragged him along. I saw how much it hurt him though, but he still left."

"I never, never made your father do anything," Laura whispered, falling back against the cool leather of her chair. Is that how it looked, she wondered. Letting Bill watch her suffer, it had broken her heart. Heat gathered behind her eyes, but she refused to let the tears come. Part of her understood: Lee was so similar to his father—afraid of being alone. Absent father. Abusive biological mother. Kara vanishing. Zak dying. She tried to talk to him softly. "What happened to my stepson? What did I do?"

"You manipulated all of us. Playing mom to the hot-shot pilots. Letting my father fall in love with you. We get a little of what we think we need and you get to try and control us. You've even got Kara right now."

"I have loved you, Lee."

"Until I frak up. Then you'll all fly away again. But I'm not going to lose Kara, or dad, or Zak again. Do you know what it's like to lose your whole family?!"

Laura didn't reply. She couldn't. Her eyes looked past him, as her mind remembered. The nightmare that once plagued her almost every night for months flared to life in her mind there on Colonial One. She pictured the moment the other driver hit the car carrying her father and sisters. It was sickening—the harsh squeal of tires as one car swerved to avoid the spreader. It wasn't enough. They smashed together, and one car ended up rolling.

A phantom pain filled Laura's body as the nightmare played out in her mind. She knew the injuries her beloved family must have sustained before dying would have been extensive. She imagined the crack of bones, the air slammed out of their bodies, glass burrowing into the skin, and finally coppery blood pooling in the mouth as the car stopped upside down and the life slipped from them. She'd had that dream for years. She still had it from time to time. Sometimes it was Bill, Kara, Zak, and Liam in the car, embodying her fear that she'd be separated from her family again.

Silence filled Colonial One.

No. Oh Gods. No.

"Get. Out." Billy ordered in a snarl, having come into the office. Kara stood next to him, glaring daggers at Lee who looked horrified at what had come out of his mouth. He hadn't thought. He'd forgotten her loss. He'd forgotten his stepmother's frequent reminders to drive carefully every single time he left the house with his car keys in hand. For a moment, he'd forgotten the story he'd been told when he got his license.

He turned and fled.

…

The Fleet had three wireless channels and just one for TV. Regular programming emerged as they hit the fifty day mark of their journey. A few musicians plucked away at the last instruments left in humanity each evening. Infamous reporter Playa Palacious had a morning briefing for the Fleet everyday. Sometimes, it was just static filling the airwaves with not enough people or equipment to fill the void.

Every so often the static cleared and a broadcast would begin from Colonial One. Zarek and Dagon sat in the Commander's quarters aboard the Battlestar Prometheus, listening to their President's honeyed tones brief the Fleet about the Cylon aboard Galactica. Zarek shook his head, folding his arms as he listened. Giving the information to the Fleet on her terms was a smart choice, Zarek realized, knowing she'd learned several lessons in the delicate balance of secrecy and honesty from the previous timelines. He'd learned his own lessons in patience, power, and alliances.

Taking a drink of the proffered ambrosia, Zarek considered the fellow Sagittaron across from him as Roslin's broadcast ended—fortune had smiled on him by giving him a fellow patriot to ally with. A natural alliance had formed between the two of them. This wasn't Zarek's first visit to Dagon's quarters for a venting session about their vaunted leaders. Another sip of ambrosia left Zarek's throat burning. He hated the stuff but wasn't going to turn down the offer for a drink with Adama's rival.

The muscled soldier frowned and flipped the channel off.

"During the first Cylon War, the enemy would leave wounded humans behind. The men and women would cry out to the gods, begging and pleading for rescue or for an end to the pain. Ever hear a man screaming in fear and pain?" Dagon asked, and Zarek nodded. "Makes even the most seasoned soldier shake like a leaf in the wind. Rescue would rush in, bleeding hearts unable to take the sound of a fellow human in pain. Too often Cylons came out of hiding and gunned down the rescue teams," Dagon took a long drink of his ambrosia, slamming the glass back down as he drained it of every last drop. "I can hear the screams of my own platoon as we came under fire trying to rescue one of my buddies. Good man. Smart-ass. Cylons used him as bait to try and kill more of us. Cunning bastards. No tactic is too low for them."

"And now a Cylon lives on Galactica, welcomed with open arms by Adama and Roslin," Zarek said. A feral growl came from the back of Dagon's throat at that. They'd just heard it confirmed over the wireless. Zarek nodded and continued. "The power couple does what they want despite the inevitable disaster."

"Can't the Quorum do something?" Dagon asked, and Zarek scoffed. He explained that Roslin had the whole Quorum eating out of the palm of her hand. The delegates wanted to believe. They wanted to trust her.

"Adama and Roslin will run things between them and damn anyone else's opinion," Zarek said, putting every bit of conviction he felt behind his fateful promise. The military and civilian government were meant to balance each other out, but with the leader of the military married to the President, Adama could do practically whatever he wanted. Like securing a pardon for his little Cylon, he thought. With a shudder, Zarek saw how horribly close the Fleet was coming to a monarchy.

"I've always been a by-the-book man, Mr. Zarek. When in doubt, I follow procedure. When my officers deviate, they'd better have a damn good reason."

"What happens when they have a damn good reason?"

"I'll hear them out, usually. If they're full of bullshit I'll throw them off the ship."

"The apocalypse makes that an interesting threat."

"Ensures my officers wait for a damn good reason before breaking any rules."

"A damn good reason? What about being led to our own destruction?"

Dagon swirled the ambrosia around in his glass, breathing in the fragrance that only years in an oak barrel can create. The military commander stared at the photos on his walls, platoon photos and memorabilia, as he raised the amber liquid to his chapped lips. He closed his eyes and drank deeply, savoring the flavor and letting his mind come to a conclusion.

"Endangering the lives of the men and women of the Fleet. That's a problem. Is it a good enough reason to break a rule or two?"

"Your duty is to keep the men and women under your command safe. There is something threatening that. What do you do?"

"You know how serious this is, right?"

Zarek laughed as he thought of the firing squad which had once killed him. Yea, Zarek thought, he knew how serious what they were insinuating could be. He took a drink of the booze, letting the alcohol turn down the volume on his thoughts. For a moment, Zarek was back on Galactica in an airlock about to be shot by Laura's Admiral. Letting the ambrosia burn his throat and dull the memory steadied him and gave him the resolve to go on.

"I'm committed to the Fleet," Zarek said simply, thinking it sounded like something Roslin would say. She'd always been able to inspire misplaced loyalty. There were a few tricks he could use from her.

"I won't be led to my end by a power-mad schoolteacher and a washed-up old Admiral. I won't follow anyone who risks their lives protecting a Cylon."

"Good. Because, I have a plan," Zarek said. He would ensure the well-being of the fleet, but this time he wouldn't meet his end in front of Adama's firing squad. If he acted quickly enough, Zarek was confident he could prevent the tyranny of the Adama family.

…

The wise priest had become her confidant once more. A certain inevitability brought them together. Elsoha was the de-facto religious leader of the Fleet after the other members of the priesthood perished on the Colonies. The President and priest often found themselves working against a creeping tide of despair as the Fleet fled from the Cylons. When Elsoha's warm voice wasn't assuring the masses that the gods hadn't abandoned them to death and despair, she was offering her President spiritual advice and council. Elosha had found purpose and faith at her prophesied leader's side, despite Laura's reluctance to accept the truth, and she was drawn to her leader's side that day.

Without warning, their meeting came to a crashing halt. Condition One alarms sliced through the air on Colonial One. Civilian gazes, including Laura's, snapped to the viewports. Against the black of space it was impossible to assess the situation by naked eye. Pilots would be jumping in their Vipers. Bill would be giving orders to his crew, his tactician's mind running on overdrive.

Every time, it felt as if the alarms slammed into her body like a physical blow. Like her husband, who unfailingly led his people in CIC, Laura stayed outwardly calm despite knowing that the next hour would either become their last moments or just another blip in the course of their lives. Elosha trembled beside her, her beaded earrings swinging wildly while Billy tensed at this desk like he was trying to curl into a ball while seated upright.

Laura, used to being on Colonial One running the government when the Cylons came calling, flipped the radio on her desk to the frequency used by CIC and the pilots. Adama had long ago supplied it for her. She couldn't disturb CIC asking for a sitrep every time alarms sounded in the Fleet. They had their work. Her husband and his officers needed to focus on saving humanity. They listened as Dualla's voice informed the Viper pilots of the incoming Cylon DRADIS contacts and the Colonial Air Patrol moving to intercept. Elosha's lips moved in prayer, as she clutched the sacred scrolls. Seeing the scrolls, Laura felt a wave of dizzying dread. Before she knew it, her own prayer fell before the gods' feet, begging them to bring her family back to her safely.

Every time, every damn time Laura heard the alarms and listened to the Cylons closing in on what remained of humanity her heart jumped to her throat. There were never any delusions of security in her mind. They teetered on the edge, danced on the point of a knife, where any wrong move could result in the complete and total destruction of humanity. She met Billy's gaze. It never got any easier—worrying about their family and friends aboard Galactica.

"Prepare to execute jumps on my mark," Dualla ordered, pausing, letting the Fleet captains prepare. "Mark."

There was always a certain order for the ships to execute their jumps. Two escort ships jumped first, providing an advanced guard for the Fleet. They had the manpower to keep their ships protected at all times. Protected, but not invulnerable. They couldn't stay and make a stand against the Cylons. There was always a missile that could get through, or a lucky raider that could land a devastating hit on a vulnerable civvie ship. Most of the Fleet lacked armor or weapons to keep their people safe. Running in their case was the better part of valor. Run. Live. Run. Live.

"Astral Queen still reporting FTL problems."

"Cylon raiders making a run on the Adriatic."

"Kat, take your wing and intercept."

"Bogey on your tail, Apollo."

"There's so many of them."

In the speakers above them, Captain Russo's voice sounded over Colonial One's internal comm. "We are jumping in five, four, three, two, one…"

Jumping made Laura feel horribly sick, and she braced a hand on her stomach. She was small for thirteen weeks. They'd planned on telling the Fleet today. Her daughter was a sign that life could and would continue.

They flashed into existence on the other side of the jump. Laura heard the heavy exhale from Elosha and her faint chuckle at surviving yet again. She felt no relief of her own yet, and she wouldn't until the phone rang and Bill's voice assured her that the latest threat was over. Until then, there were always things to take care of after every jump. The Monarch reported some minor damage to one of their engines. Laura dispatched a repair team. Cloud Nine reported water rationing riots. Billy noted that Fleet security had been dispatched.

These were long minutes. The tension grew in Laura as each tick of the clock sounded in her ears and the telephone refused to ring. She stood and paced but never strayed far from the phone. The anticipation of the ring, her smile of relief, and her first easy breath of air—it tantalized her. Any moment. Her stomach heaved, but the new meds from Cottle kept a lid on it. Enough time had passed, there should be a ring any second.

Laura's heart beat unnaturally fast as her feet paced over the carpet of her ship. Light from the solar system's star streamed into Colonial One's windows. Laura could see the whole Fleet; their ships were illuminated as rays of the red sun reflected off hull plating. In a few steps, Laura stood at a viewport, marveling at the sight it revealed. It made her feel wonder. Dread. It made her feel a tingle that started at the base of her spine and worked its way up past each vertebra until her whole body was thrumming and shaking as she gazed upon the planet below.

"Laura, what is it?" Elosha asked.

Laura could only shake her head.

"Tell me," the priest urged.

"Kobol," Laura whispered, looking at the planet beneath what remained of humanity. The universe had drawn them back to the pretty little planet once more. It hung in the heavens. Water and dirt. Clouds and mountains. Skeletons and graves. "The planet, it's Kobol."

"Kobol?" Elosha breathed, her eyes wide.

"I know it is. I know it."

"Alright," Elosha said eventually. "But Zeus warned the leaders that any return to Kobol would exact with it a cost in blood," she cautioned.

"There's always a cost in blood. People will keep dying if we don't replace water. People will die if we go to the surface of that planet. There are no good answers and no good solutions," Laura said, turning away from the view. The ticking clock continued to drag them forward.

"The inevitable confrontation at the home of the gods," Elosha said.

Laura thought of the last confrontation she'd witnessed on mythic Kobol. Bill had been different before this planet, back when they couldn't have understood how fully and deeply they belonged to each other. They hadn't liked each other. They hadn't wanted to deal with each other. Laura remembered a harsh man. She chuckled at the memory of the Adama scowl he often gave her—pursed lips and cold detachment in his eyes. She knew that he could barely tolerate her, an authoritative, bossy woman thrust into his life. Most of all, she can remember the look on his face when he silently marched her into Galactica's brig. It was the last time they saw each other before everything changed.

He'd been shot in the chest. He'd nearly died, and he probably should have. But William Adama wasn't an ordinary man. The stubborn commander, still recovering from being shot, came after them. After her. She remembered seeing him again, standing in the woods with a rifle in hand, ready to take on all of Kobol to bring back his wayward president and son. She'd been numb with exhaustion, but seeing him had nearly caused her heart to burst. It felt right to be together.

Where are you, Bill, she thought. It felt awful to be apart, and Laura turned back to the window, waiting for the Battlestars to jump in. This battle they were in, it seemed to be taking longer than usual. She jumped a little when the anticipated bright flashes take her by surprise.

Laura watched as the Battlestars jumped in, rejoining the Fleet. There was the Prometheus and Valkyrie. Some smaller flashes marked the arrival of the escort class ships. Laura looked through the sea of stars. Galactica? Had she missed it? A frown started to tug at her lips, and a weight pressed on her shoulders. Laura turned to the phone and waited.

She was still staring at the phone when the people in the office heard heavy footsteps approaching. There was a ringing in Laura's ears. Where was that beloved, deep, and gravelly voice? She turned in time to see two marines push into her office. Commander Dagon followed them in, Tom Zarek behind him. They came like dark clouds gathering on a horizon.

"Madame President," Dagon began, and there was a note of sorrow in his voice. Laura felt the world falling out from underneath her. Another dark prophecy had come to pass. Another foreboding feeling had ended with her life being ripped apart. Laura shook her head, as if begging Dagon to stop. As if leaving the words unsaid would make them less true. But Dagon's explanations filled in the missing pieces. "Galactica has been destroyed, ma'am."

The wrongness of it all overwhelmed her mind, impacting every fiber of her being. Had Bill felt like this when she'd died and he'd buried her? Had he lived with this pain while laying out the cabin that should have been theirs to live in together? She couldn't think straight. Her mind whirled like a mental tornado uprooting and shredding her dreams of a cabin by a lake where she lived with her husband. It was always theirs, not just hers or his. Bitter regret swirled in her mind as the promised birdsong and trickle of a stream faded away in her mind, leaving her wondering how she could possibly rebuild her life after the greatest loss she'd ever known. There would never be relief from this pain, Laura knew, and in that moment, she didn't care.

A gasping sob was torn from her throat. It was an anguished sound that can only come from a bereaved wife and mother. Another sob escaped her, and she tried to swallow the sound, unwilling to share her grief with these bastards.

"It would have been instantaneous," Dagon explained as if giving the horrified president a small kindness. Laura folded her arms, hiding her shaky limbs. Elosha hovered close by, ready to support her friend whose heart and soul had shattered.

No. No. No. Laura's mind screamed. She remembered the last time she'd been told that Bill Adama had been killed. This had to be another one of Zarek's tricks.

"You should be proud. They died in the line of duty," Dagon supplied. Laura thought of her son, her precious Liam who she'd just hugged and kissed that morning. Her arms ached to hold him again. She thought of Lee and their angry last words to each other. If only he could have known he'd never stopped being her Captain Apollo. She longed to see Zak and hear him laughing at his own jokes one more time. Just one more time. Once more. Bill. Oh gods, she screamed in her mind. Bill.

"No… They can't be dead," Laura said, glaring at Dagon and Zarek, daring them to contradict her. There was confidence in her voice and pure venom in her look and the marines gripped their rifles tighter. Laura's secret service guards moved their hands to their own weapons.

Elosha touched Laura's arm as the first tear trailed out of her eyes. Soon enough, there was no stopping them. She'd never felt such pain in her life. Dying of cancer, the months of pain, were nothing compared to this. This was a living hell.

"We're here to take you to Prometheus," Dagon explained. Laura looked away to wipe the tears from her face. She looked to the viewport as if another flash would deliver Galactica to her and the Fleet. Bill, Lee, Zak, Liam, her family. Each one of them held a piece of her that was now lost. She could barely function past taking painful breath after painful breath.

"There will be a funeral, befitting the Admiral of the Fleet and the crew of Galactica. Until then, we'll tell the people that you are 'resting comfortably aboard Prometheus' while mourning the death of your family," Zarek said. "It's done, Laura." She looked into Zarek's eyes, and saw the smug satisfaction of a man who'd finally won.


	49. Valley of Darkness

Laura was tired and so very drained. Her body ached with an exhaustion that she could feel right into her bones but sleep wouldn't come. Trapped within four foreign walls, Laura continued to lay in the rack as hours dragged by. She barely moved as the energy seeped from her.

There was nothing remarkable about the spartan quarters in which she'd been locked. The room was Prometheus's standard guest quarters equipped with a rack, table, chairs, and even a small couch. It was an outwardly acceptable place to house a President who was 'resting comfortably aboard the battlestar,' but Dagon's own muscled and scowling guards standing sentry in place of her Secret Service combined with a hatch that wouldn't budge made it melodramatically clear that this room was meant to be her prison. Zarek also blatantly told her it was so, quite cheerful at his perceived victory, and it became clear he remembered the other timeline. She would just have to jailbreak out when the time was right, when her strength returned, but until then there was nothing for her dry, puffy eyes to focus on. She looked vacantly up at the ceiling and let herself drift in and out of memories and sleep. It was like living in a fog.

A light blazed through her haze, always reminding Laura of her burning reason to fight this entrapment, Dagon, Zarek, and anyone else foolish enough to take her on. She had to survive for her little girl. Laura, President Roslin, had to keep her people safe and ensure her child had a future. In the rack, alone and cold, Laura curled around her bump, feeling the small life there. She'd live and fight on for her and Bill's daughter. It wouldn't be hard to bide her time until she found the right moment to act.

The constant pang in her chest squeezed her heart again, and Laura let her mind smooth the ache with happier memories.

In her mind, Laura relived the night after she and Bill were reunited. The memory remained clear and powerful in her thoughts even though it had happened over sixteen years ago. They'd been so confused and overwhelmed at finding themselves thrust in the past and unexpectedly together again, but it was wonderful all the same. Thinking of how they'd reconnected never failed to give her a warm flush of happiness—the memories in her mind remained unending echoes of the purest joy she'd ever known.

Laura could still recall every thought, every emotion, and every touch from that night. She remembered how badly she wanted to be held too tightly and kissed too hard. She recalled how desperately she wanted her senses to be so overwhelmed by Bill that he couldn't possibly be a hopeless mirage. He'd been returned to her, but she needed to be absolutely sure.

In her sleep, Laura smiled a sad smile as she rode along the soothing waves of memory. A tear slipped down her cheek, but no calloused finger came to wipe it away. She shifted in the rack, cold and alone. Keep breathing, Laura ordered herself, you are the President and you are going to bide your time until it's time to strike. Until then, the golden moments from her life could soothe the gaping hole in her heart.

'Just love someone,' her visions had told Laura. She had. She did. She always would. Finally opening her heart to love someone threw her completely out of alignment but made her feel truly balanced for the first time. When Bill was gone, it felt wrong; like her world was warped, skewed, and twisted.

Laura still marveled at how right that night felt. She had pulled him to her with all her might and kissed everywhere she could reach like her newly returned strength would be enough to keep him with her no matter what fate had in store. The memory is strong—her lips touching the skin of his cheek, the tip of his nose, his neck, and the top of his shoulder, and his fingers were soft against her back.

"You don't have to be so gentle with me now," Laura assured Bill, noticing how careful he handled her. Previously, cancer had forced him to be restrained, but she didn't want to feel like a cancer patient anymore. She wanted to feel strong and alive.

In the twilight room Bill's fingers continued to lightly caress her skin as if afraid a heavier touch would break the magic.

"I don't want to hurt…" With a frustrated growl, Laura dragged his head down to hers and cut him off with a bruising kiss. She didn't hold back but poured her heart and soul into the act. Pulling back, their eyes locked and the moment stretched between them. His eyes searched hers while they deeply breathed the same heady air. Done hiding, she was unashamed and let her soul be barred to him at that moment, and in turn Laura saw the vulnerable hope in his eyes and the honest love.

"You have me back," she promised. "All of me."

"I missed you so much."

"Me too."

"Never letting you go, Laura," he swore, and there was a passionate vehemence that should have made even the gods fear to cross him.

"Well then I guess I'm all yours," she teased lightly, her playful side coming out. She wove her hands through his hair and felt his arms slip around her body to pull her close. The rest of the night was raw and intense but honest and freeing.

Back in her prison, Laura woke covered in sweat and tears. She could almost hear Bill's name echoing against the bulkheads from her scream. The memory of his name being torn from her throat as her heart burst with love and passion ebbed away, leaving her feeling sad, empty, and terribly alone.

"Must have been a good dream," Zarek chuckled. He was seated at the small table in the room. His feet were lazily propped up on another chair as he occupied his time reading reports while casually intruding into her space. Laura bit back the cutting remarks she wanted to make at the smug looking bastard's unwanted presence. His smirk told her that he would delight in getting a rise out of her, but Laura was past caring about what the two-timing snake wanted. He would get nothing from her. At her silence, Zarek poked again. "You were dreaming of him, weren't you? The almighty but fallen Zeus."

"Jealous?" Laura taunted, giving him a cold smile. She listened to Zarek's huff when he failed to get the better of her and then laughed at his idiocy. She sat up and pushed her hair back, the damp strands clinging to her forehead. It had been a good dream, she thought, pushing herself from the rack and grabbing her jacket from the nearby chair. There was only this one suit to wear, they'd locked her in this room with nothing else. Thank the gods it still fit her, but just barely. She sat down across the table from her old nemesis.

"At least you were legally allowed to be in bed with Adama this time," Zarek fired at her.

Laura folded her hands on the table as if for polite conversation because she could play demure prisoner until it was time. "Don't you get tired of your games, Mr. Zarek?"

"I get tired of losing, Laura. So, I decided that I'm not going to lose again. Commander Dagon and I have agreed to free and lead the Fleet together."

"It's Madame President to you, Mr. Zarek, and we'll see just how this unfolds."

"It is done this time. It's over, Laura," Zarek said, and Laura felt the heat of tears rising in her eyes despite her refusal to show any weakness. It couldn't be over, her breaking heart screamed. Her throat tried to close in on itself, but she swallowed hard.

"You've said that to me before. Remind me again of how that ended for you?" she asked in a low voice. He had the decency to flinch, and his reaction satisfied Laura.

"I learned a lot in that timeline. Things you and the almighty Adama taught me. Lessons New Caprica taught me. He abandoned us on that planet, remember? Cylon detention."

"I do seem to recall you helping Baltar win the election that put us on that gods-forsaken rock. Bill chose to live and run so he could fight another day. He has a tendency to come back."

"Pathetically, you ran back to him every time he returned, didn't you? Well, Zeus won't be returning to Olympus," Zarek gave her a look up and down that made her skin crawl, "or to his Hera this time." A wave of nausea overtook Laura, and she pressed a hand to her stomach. She wanted to believe he was lying.

"No."

Zarek needed to see Laura Roslin defeated, taunted and pushed into a grave beside her Cylon-loving Admiral. He smirked again. "It's just you and me."

"Commander Dagon might have something to say about your belief that it's just you and me."

"Maybe," Zarek pressed on, as if sensing the grief that threatened to crush his rival. He'd lived through too many disappointments and he wanted to watch Laura realize her options were gone. "Too bad you can't use the same trick on Dagon that you used to get Adama to do your bidding. I can admit, I admired the strategy. It's sound. By securing your place in Adama's bed you had control of the military through him. Now, I'm just not sure the seduction game would have the same effect coming from the widow of his commanding officer."

Shaking her head, she kept her gaze off him, she couldn't bear to look his way, because if they made eye contact she thought she might vomit.

"Is that your plan here? Remove everyone I love and then what? Try your own seduction game? Are you here to turn on the charm? Maybe offer a shoulder for me to cry on? Are you hoping I'm so desperate that you can sneak in and claim the power you want?"

"Would it have ever worked?"

"No. You're a hard man to like."

"Even though I hid you after you broke out of the jail he threw you in? I took you to Kobol. I supported you. I gave you the Presidency! But you rejected me. You never gave me a chance. I wanted to help. I wanted what was best for the people."

"Giving you any more chances than I did would have seen us all dead," she accused, thinking of his pathetic attempt at justice with the Circle and the mutiny that nearly destroyed the last bit of hope their people had left.

"I wanted to set us free."

"You know, maybe you could have been a good person once. I thought I saw the man you could be back on New Caprica. But you got twisted and lost. Now I hope to live long enough to see that realization flash in your eyes that you are nothing more than a little man." Zarek slammed his hands down on the table, jumping to his feet. His gaze blazed down on her, but she didn't even flinch. He paced away from the stone-cold woman, his hands shaking and his own rage boiling at his inability to get any rise out of her.

"Do you really think your sins and those of your husband's—your late husband—were better than mine? Cleaner than mine? The only difference is he wore a uniform and I didn't. He was a military strong-man who overthrew civilian rule, ruled by nepotism, undermined criminal inquiries he himself launched, and made clear he would overthrow any government he opposed. You just never batted an eye because you were blinded by his bulk," Zarek stopped his furious pacing to face her. His face was red, and he was shouting so loud her eardrums were ringing. "Tell me, who was the one twisted and lost?"

"Asks the man drowning in blood! Tell me, Mr. Zarek, how can you look the Quorum in the eye? Those are good people you ordered murdered! Was the death count not high enough for you in the other timeline? Tell me, did you think of Gaeta at all when you and Dagon, what, sabotaged Galactica? It is sabotage one of you ordered, right? Did you think of the men and women onboard? Or are they just acceptable casualties on your crusade?" Laura was righteous indignation personified. Tangled hair falling around her shoulders, blazing glare, and growling voice—she was a raging fire that seemed impossible to control.

"I spared you," Zarek hissed, and Laura finally snapped.

"My son was aboard Galactica. My sixteen-year-old son who never wronged you in any way. He just carried his father's name. Was it good enough to see him dead too? You are nothing more than a butcher. A bloody butcher who craves power and will kill anyone to get it," she yelled, standing up and snarling the words into Zarek's face.

Zarek panted, clenching and unclenching his fists. He hated being reduced to nothing more than a butcher. Butcher, the critics called him, like he carried a cleaver and ran his own horror show. Butcher Laura called him, and before he even knew what he was doing he'd struck Roslin across the face. The cracking of his hand exploding across his cheek startled, stilled, both of them. She fell back in her chair, holding her face and breathing heavily. He stared at the rise and fall of her breasts and then let his eyes trail up to where she touched her face gingerly, the white fingers tracing a forming bruise.

She laughed coldly.

"Oh, Tom, take this little victory. But when the time comes, I'm going to wipe that smug little grin off your face. And then I am going to break you. I'm going to know what it looks like to see Tom Zarek realize he has nothing and no one. Then you'll die. I promise you."

Zarek stared at her. He'd come to her prison to revel in his victory over her. He'd come to...he wasn't exactly sure. One minute he wanted to offer her a shoulder to cry on and play the same seduction game she'd played. The next minute he wanted to see her broken and on the floor. But her head remained high and she remained, somehow, in power. Gods damn it all, he thought.

"Widows should wear black," Zarek snapped, reaching into the bag he'd brought and tossing a black dress at her. "Elosha found it for you. The funeral is in an hour. Get ready."

He felt her eyes on his as he stalked out of the room, cold and unyielding. She hadn't surrendered to him professionally or personally, in body or in spirit. That didn't mean he couldn't try again. He thought ahead to the coming funeral.

…

Widow. That was a designation Laura never thought would be applied to her. Throughout her life, she seemed to acquire titles she never expected: president, prophet, wife, and mother. She had discovered she could be the President of the Colonies. Being the prophet was forced upon her, but she upheld her end of that cosmic bargain. The Dying Leader, she'd been called. That ended as predicted. Laura looked down at the onyx pendant in her hand and knew she would rather be the 'Dying Leader' instead of Adama's widow in any universe or any timeline. There wasn't even a title that could encompass a mother who'd lost her son.

She ran a hand over the onyx pendant she wore everyday, feeling the etched edge of the symbol carved into it. Bill always spoke more with actions rather than words. She smiled sadly. Giving her his ring and then this pendent told her more than any words could that she meant everything to him. 'Sealed in a union for all the eternities' she remembered vowing when they married. But until their promised reunion, every fiber of her being ached from the loss.

"You said those who remembered would help us," Laura growled out to the empty quarters, knowing that her gods wouldn't deign to answer her back. 'Twelve to remember. Twelve to help.' She clenched her fist around the pendent. "Frak all of you," she said, cursing the divinities who seemed to enjoy turning their backs on her despite Laura trying to follow their will.

The clang and screech of an opening hatch to her quarters grated against her ears. Laura listened as Dagon's goon squad marched in, having not bothering with social niceties like knocking.

"Madame President, we're here to escort you to the hangar deck for the funeral."

Taking a deep breath, Laura rose from the table gliding like a phantom. She was pale as a white rose, and the black dress contrasted sharply with her skin. It fell to her knee and clung to her body. She stared coldly at the guards when they gaped at their president, letting their eyes rest on her midsection. There was no hiding the baby in this dress, but Elosha would have known that fact. Laura saw the wisdom in letting the Fleet know of her daughter's existence; Dagon and Zarek couldn't just quietly martyr their president who carried a deceased war hero's child. It would keep the baby safe.

Laura fastened the pendent around her neck and she felt the cool stone rest against her skin.

"Let's go," she ordered the guards in a stone-cold voice, drifting past them.

Catching up, they quickly formed a blockade around her. Had Commander Dagon found the tallest, burliest, and sourest bunch of grunts to escort her to the funeral? The thought of how that was going to look with the press and the Fleet comforted Laura as she was marched through the corridors of Prometheus like a woman being driven to her own execution instead of a wife and mother whose family was gone.

"Madame President," her guard warned, urging her to walk faster.

This wasn't the plan, she shook her head, feeling a trembling in her bones as she took another step. Bill and her, all the way to Earth and then living together in a cabin surrounded by children and grandchildren. That was the plan. Bill, Liam, Lee, Kara, Cottle, Billy, Saul, and Boomer all working together to bring the Fleet to Earth again was the deal, what the gods had ordained.

Frak the gods. Frak the gods and damn the terrorists and traitors who forced her to walk toward this funeral. She was a Roslin, and even without the name, she was an Adama. One foot kept stepping in front of the other. Whatever Dagon had planned, whatever farce Zarek wanted to turn any event into, Laura was going to walk onto that hangar bay and honor her husband and sons.

Nearing the hangar deck, it was easy to hear the buzz from the crowds that had gathered there for the funeral. The snapping sound of cameras reached her ears. She turned the corner in time to catch an impromptu interview with members of the press. The media crews were wrapped around someone like animals starved for news. The suited individual tossed morsels of information out and they gobbled up each bit and looked needingly at their provider. It was dangerous—attaining power through the people.

"With the loss of Admiral Adama, who is in charge of the Fleet?" one reporter demanded.

"Commander Dagon has assumed command of this fleet. I have every confidence in his leadership, and we need strong leadership right now."

"Councilman Zarek, we've heard you visited President Laura Roslin aboard the Battlestar Prometheus earlier today. Can you speak to the state that she is in? Will she be able to continue on as President given the loss of the Battlestar Galactica?"

"Unfortunately, Laura Roslin seems particularly affected by the loss of our flagship and its Admiral. The Quorum is considering a vote of no confidence as she's been quite consumed by everything that has happened. I believe we need to hold elections as soon as possible."

"So you do not believe she'll be able to lead us?"

"I think it is time to demand free and open elections to choose a new leadership. President Roslin will feel free to mourn in peace, and we will ensure we have qualified leaders, chosen by the people."

"Are you one such leader?"

"I am. We need a government that represents all the people. This is not for me, but for all the survivors of the holocaust and for the children of humanity's future."

"Madame President!" Billy's voice yelped, as he pushed past the media and crowds converging to get onto the hangar deck. "I'll take it from here," her aide said folding his arms and leveling a gaze at the goon squad. 'Someone ate their vegetables again this morning.' The thought popped into Laura's head and she felt a spark of pride in the boy who'd grown up. She was terrified and touched all at once as her aide faced down the guards. Not too far off, the press was looking on with interest at the scene in front of them. 'I taught the boy well,' Laura realized at the staged scene.

"Madame President, what happened?" Billy asked, noticing the purple and red bruise on her face which she'd not bothered to try to hide.

"Zarek wanted to talk," Laura said, but offered no more explanation than that. She heard the unhappy murmur of the press as their curious gazes darted along her body. Billy, daring anyone to question him, moved forward and offered an elbow to her.

"I'll take you in," he said. "I'll be by you the whole time."

Laura gave him a small smile. Oh, Billy. Oh dear, sweet, Billy. He wasn't a baby bird barely leaving the nest anymore, he had become an eagle soaring high and ready to sink his talons into threat and prey alike. The loss of Dee had hit him hard she knew, and Laura hoped it wouldn't harden him too much. Behind the sharp beak and razor talons he was still so young.

"Thank you, Billy," Laura said, slipping her arm around his. The guards made room for him, and allowed her aide to escort her past the press, who snapped their pictures, and onto the hangar deck.

"He'd kick my ass if I didn't take care of you," Billy offered, and Laura chuckled at the idea of the two atheists going at it in the afterlife.

There were warriors in dress greys everywhere. They wore their full regalia to honor the fallen. Representatives from many of the ships in the Fleet were present as well. Dagon's guards kept people away from Laura—for her protection, they said. Members of the Quorum were seated nearby, and many of them nodded their condolences to their President. She noted the Commanders of the Battlestars Valkyrie and Daedalus come to attention as she passed. She was still their President, but they'd also known Bill, been friendly acquaintances, and in his memory they'd keep respecting her despite Dagon's clear disregard for her.

Holding her head high, she was able to make it to the center of the hangar deck. The flags of the Colonies were prominently displayed. The flag of the Battlestar Galactica and the unified flag of the Twelve Colonies took the honored places in the front, behind the lecturn from where the memorial would be conducted. Laura studied the display. It was all starting to feel too final.

Someone plopped down in the seat next to her, folding her arms and glaring at the display while shaking her head.

"I just want to punch him," Kara said. "I want Lee to pop out of one of those vipers with a big smile and I want to smack it right off his face." The two women stared at the display in front of them. There were no coffins they could focus on; there was no way to recover bodies of those who'd died in fiery explosions in space.

"I know."

"They should be here but they're not. That frakking bastard, asshole, self-righteous idiot should be here, and I want to kill him for not being here."

"You'd give anything to have them—him—back."

"Last words we said were angry ones, and it's all his fault for being such a bastard and part of me hates him for that."

"But you mostly want him to know how much you love him."

"We aren't supposed to be the ones still here." Kara's head collapsed on Laura's shoulder. Laura rolled her eyes when the snapping of cameras grew louder for a moment.

"I know."

"I miss Liam. He always made us smile didn't he?" Laura felt her throat constricting again and could only nod her agreement. Her son had been something special, a star that burned brightly in her life, and now left her cold with its absence.

Bill would have hated his funeral. The entire affair was more performance than funeral and so full of pomp and ceremony that it didn't fit the memory of the battered Battlestar and equally stern Admiral.

Commander Dagon delivered a speech on heroism and glory. He assured the people that he felt the weight of taking over the responsibility of protecting the Fleet from such an upstanding officer. He would do his duty, he promised. The other commanders looked at each other warily, a note of disquietude between them at the honeyed speech being given that was more acceptance speech than memorial.

It took too long. There were too many speeches and too many hymns. Finally, the audience stood as one.. The soldiers came to sharp attention as the honor guard took a stance and fired off rounds of blanks. When the shots stopped echoing over the people, a bugler stepped forward. The notes he played were grief made audible. The mournful tune continued as the Galactica flag and the Unified Flag were lowered. Uniformed men and women with cords on their shoulders and gloves on their hands stepped up and took the edges of the fabric.

The flags were carefully folded twelve times and the young officers—looking far too young and far too sad from being on the run for their lives—handed them to Commander Dagon. He turned and stepped off the dias and down to Laura.

Standing right in front of her, he presented her with the flags.

"On behalf of the Quorum of Twelve, and the grateful Twelve Colonies of Kobol, please accept these flags as symbols of our appreciation for your loved one's honorable and faithful service."

Laura's heart shattered as she took the heavy flags in her hands, gripping the fabric tightly in her fingers. She watched Dagon perform an about face and return to his seat. She tried to breathe, but she knew Dagon had something to do with Galactica's downfall. Dagon shouldn't be the one still here and definitely couldn't be trusted with the Fleet. She held the flags tightly to herself as her mind tried to stay focused. A tear rolled onto her cheek. Dagon and Zarek were trying to take away what power she had—power she needed not because she wanted it, but because her people needed her. What would anyone's sacrifice mean if the traitor and terrorist destroyed it all?

Elosha walked up onto the dais to conclude the service, and the two women looked each other in the eye. They understood the resolve between the two of them. The priest looked out over the crowd and spoke.

"With heavy hearts we lift up their spirits to you, O Lords of Kobol, in the knowledge that you will take from them their burdens and give them life eternal." The hangar bay remained in a state of reverent silence as Elosha spoke. "And we look to our leader, the promised leader, given to us by the Lords of Kobol. As it was written in the Book of Pythia: 'The Lords anointed two leaders to guide the Caravan of the Heavens to their new homeland. And unto the leaders they gave a gift of new life: a daughter as a sign of things to come. The impossible child would be born during their journey, and she would be the symbol of the Lords' promise that life would continue.' We have found our leader, and we must continue to trust in her guidance."

Laura turned as murmurs swept through the masses. The people processed the news and Laura noticed the eyes of hundreds of curious and confused faces focused in her direction, expressions begging her for guidance. She knew Dagon and Zarek would try to keep her locked up after this. She took a deep breath and moved to the podium to speak.

"Thank you all for coming to honor the Galactica and sharing in our grief. Those of us who knew them ache at their loss. My husband was an… amazing man and his crew were extraordinary people. They had faith that a better day was coming for all of us, that we would get through this together. In their memory, I will continue this journey my husband and I started together and the carry on our goal of preserving the human race with everything at my command. If I have been chosen by the gods to help lead you, I will not question this choice. I will try to play my part while remembering the hope that was always in my husband's eyes. I will lead us to our salvation for the sake of my people, for the sake of humanity's children, and for the sake of my daughter. It is my sole purpose."

"Get her out of here!" Zarek yelled. As Dagon's marines removed her from the hangar bay, the people screamed their protest.

Her eyes swept over the crowd, some of them reaching out to touch her now as she was hauled away. She could hear people praising the gods for this salvation. She could practically feel the devotion she'd inspired once again in her people for their leader. For her daughter and for those that had been lost, Laura Roslin reclaimed the title of Prophesied Leader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: thank you for the continuing support! I’m posting this chapter earlier than I thought I would. Yeay! Hoping the next chapter is done soon too. I keep going knowing people are enjoying this. Sorry if I’ve made people sad with this chapter.


	50. Fragged

"Brace for impact!"

White-knuckled hands gripped consoles as enemy fire smashed into the ship. Everyone was thrown off their feet as the deck lurched underneath them. Sparks rained down around the crew of Galactica.

All the Battlestars had recalled their fighters the moment the last of the civilian Fleet jumped away. Galactica's vipers rested in a heap within her now retracted hangar bays. Valkyrie and Daedalus jumped away leaving just Prometheus and Galactica facing the oncoming horde of Cylon raiders.

"Breach in the stern hull."

"Damage control teams being spread pretty thin."

"Fire in port hangar bay!"

"Doc is reporting casualties."

Officers shouted reports. Crewmen pressed comms to their ears, pushing information down the lines. Burnt relays filled CIC with smoke while DRADIS showed the enemy closing in like the jaws of death. In these moments, chaos reigned. There was no time to think, but this is what they were trained for. Officers made split-second decisions, saving as many as they could.

"Jump drive spun up."

"Jump!" Adama ordered, watching the incoming enemy ordnance. Gaeta snatched up the FTL safety interlock, holding it in a tight fist. The ship shook again, and the bright-glowing blue crystals cast their light on frightened faces. He jammed the crystals into their slot feeling the mechanism click into place. Wasting no time, Gaeta twisted the key hard, but nothing happened.

On DRADIS, Prometheus blinked away while the Cylons kept coming. Everyone turned to wide-eyed Gaeta, who turned the key again. No disorienting twist came. There was no folding or stretching sensation. Instead of jumping to safety, Galactica found herself facing an onslaught of Cylon Basestars and raiders determined to blow her to hell.

"There's a problem with the FTL," Gaeta reported, working frantically over the console.

"Stop telling us the obvious and start on the fixing it!" Tigh ordered, practically feeling the enemy breathing down on their necks. More Cylon missiles streaked in and slammed into the ship, throwing people to the ground. Enemy contacts were overwhelming the ability of Battlestar gunners to stop them. Alarms blared and chunks of glass sparkled in the light as screens shattered. Meanwhile Gaeta worked furiously at the FTL computer.

Adama grabbed the tactical table and hauled himself to his feet from where he'd landed on the floor. Blinking several times, he tried to clear his vision. Wincing, he wiped away the blood dripping into his eye from the gash on his head. The ship shuddered again and he could taste the fear in the air. The hull creaked and groaned, threatening to buckle under the hailstorm of missiles raining down on her.

"Report?" Adama demanded.

"Still nothing!" Gaeta yelled. The young lieutenant slammed a fist onto the drive's computer screen. "The systems are functional, but FTL is not reading the navigation computer's jump coordinates."

Adama knew there was no way they could stand toe to toe with the Cylons for much longer. Galactica and her crew were one well-placed nuke away from total annihilation.

"But the FTL drive itself is still operational?" he asked.

"Yes, sir!"

The Cylons had the ability to kill them and they would if he didn't do something. Jumping with a faulty navigational array was suicidal under the best of times. "Disconnect the navigation array from the FTL drive," he ordered.

"Sir?" Tigh asked, looking at his CO warily. The FTL computer calculated where they were jumping and ensured they didn't end up in the middle of a star or asteroid. Space was pretty big though.

"Blind jump," Adama ordered. A morbid silence fell over CIC. It was damn crazy to jump when a navigational array and FTL computer were not talking to each other. Every Fleet cadet heard the stories of failed FTL jumps—when ships jumped blind and never reappeared. It was highly likely they'd jump right out of existence.

"That's crazy," Tigh said, as Gaeta stared at Adama in horror. Adama looked at the DRADIS screen, which showed too many enemy contacts to count. He'd staked his career on his ability to make the tough calls. He could weigh the lives of the men and women under his protection, against the facts on the ground.

"It's time to roll the hard six," Adama said, knowing they were out of options.

"Yes, sir." Gaeta said, obeying his commander and prepping the jump. "Ready."

"Jump!"

…

"Does imagining yourself here help?" asked the woman Laura referred to as Dream Elosha. Laura walked through the emptied and darkened corridors of Galactica. Her footfalls echoed against the dark metal while Elosha trailed behind her. Her sadness festered like a wound in her chest and ached. The pain was unbearable, unending, and unrelenting as her cancer once had been as it drained the life from her.

"Leave me alone," Laura sighed.

She slipped into Bill's quarters, their home, but in the dream was all wrong. The edges were blurred and out of focus, and there was no warm feeling rising in her. She picked up a Galactica sweatshirt from the floor, one of Liam's favorite things to wear. Collapsing on the couch, Laura held the sweater to her chest.

"You were so overjoyed and terrified at being a mother. So worried you couldn't be what he needed you to be," Elosha whispered, her honeyed voice trying to bring comfort and peace.

She clutched the sweatshirt in her arms, remembering holding her son for the first time. Her voice was thick with tears as she spoke. "I was scared. But then he came and it was easy. Liam was so perfect."

"Your people need you again. They look to their promised leader once more. Don't let yourself fade again," Dream Elosha said, resting a hand on her shoulder. Laura shook her head and stood to pace.

"I feel like I've been cleaved in two and some vital part of me is missing," Laura snapped as she paced through the quarters she'd come to call home. Her fingertips traced over the spines of books and the open pages of Searider Falcon, which lay open on the table.

"It's the price of great love," Elosha said, sitting there watching Laura pace with sad understanding.

"It is. And, my gods, it hurts. But I'm not fading again, Elosha. I won't." Laura's fingertips formed fists resting on each side of the open book. A grim look of determination crossed her face and she looked over to Elosha. "Someone did this to me, to Kara, and to Billy. We have all this pain that we shouldn't be having to live with. So I'm going to use it to drag down my enemies. They will never control this fleet, and my daughter will grow up and without ever hearing the names Dagon or Zarek."

"Laura?" Elosha asked, and Laura stood up, her spine rigid as steel. She faced Elosha and crossed her arms.

"If the gods are going to make me live in hell, driven insane by delusions that can't keep my family alive and safe, I might as well fill the place up with the bastards who deserve to be here. So tell me, Elosha, or whoever… whatever, you are, what can you tell me that will help. Who remembers?"

"Bill Adama, who represented Zeus; you, who represented Hera. Cottle as Ares, Kara as Apollo, Tigh as Poseidon, Billy as Hermes, Boomer as Athena, and Leoben as Haphaestus."

"Well, I knew all that," Laura said, pacing closer to look down at the priest. She looked ready to spit fire. "I want all their names. I want all the correlations. Now."

Elosha pursed her lips, and met Laura's burning gaze. After a few moments, she replied. "Fine. Lee represents Artemis. Caprica Six remembers and represents Demeter. Baltar represents Aphrodite."

"Frakking Baltar. Of course he remembers; he helped start this all when he introduced Six to Adar but he's dead now. I kept him locked in his lab on Galactica. Tell me about Zarek," she ordered.

"He remembers and represents Dionysus. The God who wields a staff wound in ivy, which he uses as a weapon to destroy those who oppose the freedom he represents. Called Eleutherios in old Gemenese—'the liberator'. He promises to free his followers from fear and overthrow the oppressive reign of the powerful."

"And you are only telling me this now after our so-called 'liberator' arranged the death of the oppressive Admiral Adama who only wanted to preserve humanity. Now my sons are gone." Elosha looked up at the woman who towered over her suspiciously and with a hint of trepidation.

"What are you planning, Laura?"

"To burn Dagon and Zarek with the fire they started."

Laura opened her mouth to demand more information from the reticent Elosha, but found herself snapped back into the waking world with the suddenness of a cracking whip. A hand clamped over her mouth, stifling the instinctive scream rising in her. She stared up at her assailant, wide-eyed and visualizing all sorts of morbid ways this could play out. There was a spark of defiance in the man's eyes.

"Shhhh. You wanted to get outta here, right?"

...

The crew of Galactica fought on. They ate, slept, and repaired the ship, repeating the process again and again. The Admiral stayed on duty with his soldiers as they pulled the ship back together. The clattering of equipment and the constant hard work of his crew eased his mind, assuring him of the resilience of his people. He looked at them and knew that they were not yet defeated and could keep on fighting despite limping through the stars. All the while they worked under the ominous certainty that unless Galactica reunited with the civilian Fleet soon, there would be disastrous consequences. Crew whispered in hushed tones as rumors about sabotage tip-toed through the corridors. Besides, the crew needed their Old Lady back almost as much as Adama himself did.

It was a nightmarish dystopia in CIC. Tools were strewn everywhere as the crew repaired the damaged systems. Sparks flew as crewmen welded metal on metal, and the acrid smell of smoke and metal from welding clung to the fibers of their clothing. Gaeta stood at the FTL computer. He hadn't gone off duty since the day before and now his hair stuck out in every direction.

"What's he doing in CIC?!" Tigh's voice cracked out like thunder across the room. He glared daggers toward Gaeta but more precisely toward the man ducking down behind the FTL computer console. A man, Tigh seethed, whom he considered lower than dirt and lesser than the maggots of New Caprica. He stalked toward them, sputtering with fury. "Mr. Gaeta, what is that man doing in my CIC?!"

'Awww. Does the big mean soldier-man scare you, Gaius?' Invisible Six teased, leaning against the console Baltar ducked behind.

"As a matter of fact…" Baltar muttered, picturing the many ways Saul Tigh might like to dismember him.

"It was Dr. Baltar who hypothesized that our navigation systems may have been compromised by a computer virus. He's been assisting with correcting the code," Gaeta explained, standing up straight and trying to keep looking into the XO's fury-filled gaze. Gaeta tried to brush off how short and young the XO made him feel.

"Baltar has been confined to his lab," Tigh snarled as Adama walked into CIC with Chief Tyrol who was briefing him on the current situation. "Get that frakkin' slimy weasel out of here!" the XO ordered, causing Baltar to swallow hard and tremble.

'Pull it together Gaius. You need to protect our child,' Six growled, combing her perfectly manicured hands through Baltar's hair.

"Oh yes, I remember that line. Our great mission," Baltar hissed to Six under his breath with no small amount of sarcasm in his voice. Six narrowed her eyes at him.

'An honor given to you by almighty god,' she purred. Seduction was what Six did best, and she moved deeper into Baltar's personal space with a look of pure heat in her eyes. She raked her nails down from his head along his spine, letting her shimmering white dress ride up as she crouched down beside him. 'Chosen above all others,' she breathed in his ear, making the cowering man tremble harder.

"Sir, I could really use his help on the jump drive. And if it was sabotage…"

"Enough!" Tigh ordered.

Baltar peeked his head over the top of the FTL computer, looking between Gaeta and Tigh. Behind them, Adama watched the whole scene with a cold detachment. Nodding slowly at Six as he weighed his options, Baltar stood up straight and slunk around the computers and consoles, giving tight-ass Tigh a wide berth.

'Where are you going?' Six asked, but the Doctor shook his head. 'Look at them Gaius. They're tired, desperate. A smart man like you knows how to use that. Use it for Hera!' Six yelled, her voice ringing in his ears.

Hera. Taking a deep breath, Baltar turned around and walked up to the table underneath the DRADIS screens where Adama had turned his attention to the reports in front of him, refusing to give the man any attention. Baltar found the small speck of confidence he'd found in the other timeline, locked eyes with his imaginary Six that only he could see, and spoke in a low voice that only Adama could hear.

"Mistakes were made last time, I won't deny that. But we need to get to Kobol, sooner rather than later."

Adama's eyes snapped up to him at the mention of Kobol. "What are you talking about?"

"All this has happened before. All this will happen again. Humanity has been scattered and divided once more, but we are destined to regroup at Kobol. Yes, I know that's the planet we were trying to jump to. I also know that is the planet where the shape of things to come will be given to humanity. Hera." Six watched Baltar with calculating eyes, wary with warning.

"You remember," Adama growled in a low voice that only Baltar could hear. The two men stared at each other while Six moved her attention to Adama, leaning over the table and propping her head up in her hand.

'Use his weakness against him,' Six suggested, studying the Colonial officer. 'You know, you remember; who will he rip the heavens apart to get back to? There are those whom god has meant to be joined. Just like you and me,' Six said. Baltar nodded.

"I remember parts. Enough to help if you want it, and I should think the recovery of your pregnant wife is something that very much weighs on your conscious. I can help you get back to her. So, if you decide that means something to you, I'll be in my lab." Grabbing his imaginary girlfriend's hand in his, he marched out of CIC holding his head high before Adama could recover and ask him questions that would be better answered in private.

…

Adama paced his quarters, clutching the work order Gaeta had just pulled with information on who'd last worked on the FTL. It confirmed that someone from Prometheus—Dagon's ship—had been in CIC doing something to their computers. Gaeta now knew a virus was corrupting the systems, but he couldn't get rid of it.

Adama's thoughts moved to Baltar, and he felt the old rage at the man coursing through him like wildfire. Baltar remembered. Even if he could only recall bits and pieces from the other timeline, he was someone else with memories and the ability to help them now. He would never trust Baltar, though. His farce of a presidency led to the disaster of New Caprica and the thousands of dead there. His own wife, who was nothing more than a simple school teacher at the time, was imprisoned and… Adama took a shaky breath as he imagined what they'd done to her. They'd countered the effects of Hera's blood and Laura's cancer had thus eventually come back. Baltar began the events of Laura's death. But what if he could help get her back, Adama thought. He looked down at the work order knowing Laura was in danger with Dagon in control of the military. But to put even a grain of sand's worth of faith in Baltar?

"Dad!" Liam said, having snuck from his room, the converted storage locker next door to Adama's quarters with a door cut in it, into the main cabin. "Is Galactica repaired?"

"No," Bill sighed, sinking down onto the couch and taking off his glasses to rub his gritty, tired eyes. Liam, often feeling out of his depth when his parents were faced with problems, fell back on copying what his mother did when he was upset. He poured some coffee and grabbed a snack (ration pack #45) and moved over to his father.

"What's going on?" Liam asked, sitting next to his father and offering up the sustenance. Bill looked over, right into Laura's sage green eyes. She and Liam looked and acted so much alike it was almost painful for Bill right now. He accepted the offering, giving Liam a small smile and letting the warm beverage soothe him while regarding his son thoughtfully for a moment.

"Suppose there was someone who could help us get back to the Fleet, to your mother, but doing so would mean using someone who once hurt all of humanity, including Laura, a lot. He's dangerous and someone I can never trust," Adama said, watching Liam scrunch his face up in a thoughtful manner.

"Well, I think Mom would advise trying and to meet that someone on common ground. If your interests align, then use the person, but keep your guard up." Liam shrugged. "Maybe like Boomer, right? You both care about Galactica, and saving the ship and crew was your common ground."

"You do sound like your mother," Bill chuckled, taking a bite from the military ration as he thought about what Liam said. It was pretty ambitious even to call the ration pack food. It tasted like bland potato paste combined with chalk from a school classroom and had the consistency of glue.

"Mom and the Fleet are at Kobol, aren't they?" Liam asked, causing Bill to choke on his ration pack.

"What? Why do you ask that?" Bill sputtered, Liam arched his eyebrow in a Laura-like way and pulled out a book and handed it to his father. His father tossed the ration pack down and ran a hand over the face of the book, feeling the embossed title under his weathered hands. The Pythian Prophecy, it read.

"I learned about it in school. Mom refused to touch the book and I remember it making her really upset. Some time ago I saw her with it on Colonial One, and she was talking to the priestess Elosha. It sounds like the prophecy talks about her, dad." Bill regarded

"Liam, it's… complicated. There's a long story behind all of this," his son merely tilted his head, giving him a determined stare. Bill sighed. "But I suppose you should know now." Bill told Liam the whole tale. He wove the story of Battlestar Galactica and its 50,000 survivors (Liam was horrified so few had survived). He told Liam about running from the Cylons with even more of a rag-tag fleet, with Laura as their president and searching for the thirteenth colony—Earth as told about in the book of Pythia. Liam listened with a thoughtful frown as his dad explained everything. His mind moving quickly through the information and seeing where the pieces fit into his life.

"That's crazy dad."

"It is crazy. I have always thought of myself as an atheist. Your mother used to call me Admiral Atheist. But it doesn't mean there are parts that aren't true. Lee remembers. So does Kara. Billy. Colonel Tigh. Doc Cottle."

"If you didn't meet on Picon, what was your real first meeting like?" Liam suddenly asked, and Bill laughed.

"We met when the Galactica was getting decommissioned," Bill noticed Liam completely intrigued by the story. "I didn't like her. She was this politician who thought she could come aboard my Battlestar and fix my backwards ways. I thought it was insulting that a naive and determined little school teacher could try and match me," Liam grinned, thinking of their first meeting.

"But you did love mom?"

"Eventually. It took a while to realize we were even on the same side. I even threw her in the brig once, but she busted out using my own crew. I had to chase her down to Kobol, and there something happened. We became partners. We always worked together after that."

"I didn't exist in that timeline."

"No. You were a bit of a surprise this time. One of the best. Laura had never been a mother and she was so happy. If we had to live through the apocalypse again, you were proof that things could be better."

"Was mom the Dying Leader?"

"What?" Adama demanded. Liam took the book from his father and flipped to the pages before pointing out a line.

"'They'll be guided by visions of a Dying Leader who once led her people.' Mom… mom is or was the Dying Leader," Bill could only nod his head as he thought of how he'd lost her. "You got each other back. You remembered each other and that's why you married so quickly after getting divorced."

"Yes."

"'Kobol demands a price in blood for those who return.' That's what the prophecy says. If there's any truth in any of this," Liam held the book up, giving it a funny look, "we need to get back to mom and the Fleet."

"You're right," Bill said, nodding. He stood, fastening the buttons up of his uniform.

…

William Adama marching into Baltar's lab always sent a chill of panic into the pit of the scientist's stomach. He had always been one of the few men who could see through Baltar like he was nothing more than polished glass and was never fooled by his propensity to use large words and concepts to cover his failings.

'Pull yourself together,' Caprica said from where she was bent over the lab table. She looked at him from over her shoulder with a pouty smile, 'He's just an old soldier after all.'

"Did you know that after you told the Cylons about using Hera's blood to cure Laura's cancer, they experimented on her? They even found a way to counter the effects. So, tell me… why shouldn't I shove you out the nearest airlock?" Adama growled, barely containing the rage in his words.

Baltar could feel his heartbeat slamming against his chest and he forced himself to maintain his composure. It was no easy task considering the scathing look Adama was giving him and the almost naked and very invisible temptress bent over in front of him. Her timing, predictably, could not have been worse, but she clearly delighted in the problems being thrown at Baltar.

"Bit of an overreaction, don't you think? Besides, as much as you hate me, you love Laura more. More than anything I'm guessing. You know I can help you get back to her. You know that I'm caught up in this tale just like you and Laura are. We always have been."

"I'm listening."

"There is a computer virus in the FTL system. Gaeta pulled the work orders. The last person to perform maintenance on the computer was a technician from Commander Dagon's ship. If we don't get to Kobol soon, Dagon—and probably Zarek—will kill Roslin and then they'll kill Sharon and her baby when they arrive."

"Conjecture."

"Destiny," Six gave an approving roll of her hips at Baltar's mention of destiny, causing Baltar to nearly squeak out loud despite him being fully clothed against Six.

"Frak destiny."

'Protect our child, Gaius!' Six urged.

"Laura's pregnant."

Adama stared at Baltar who trembled under the intensity of the Admiral's stare. He paced closer to the Doctor. "How would you know that?"

"Visions. Prophecy. Whatever you want to call it. I was told. Laura's child is a sign from her gods. Sharon's is a sign from the Cylon god. It all comes together. Look at you now. Demanding answers and damning destiny. You still expect this all to make perfect sense. We're humans. It's never going to! But I know we need to get to Kobol. I know Dagon will kill Laura, Sharon, and any hope humanity has if given the chance. I know I can help!"

'You're dancing on the edge of a knife, one wrong move and it's over,' Six seethed.

"You always struck me as someone who was overwhelmed by any job or task they were faced with. Someone who could never step up to what was expected of them."

"You're right," Baltar said, ignoring the urge he felt to dive under the table and hide from the scary Admiral.

'What are you doing? He's going to tear your head off and throw your body out an airlock!' Six said, standing to turn and look at him. She frowned, as if expecting the heat and anger radiating from Adama to set off one of the many explosive compounds in the lab.

"Did you know I became a farmer on that pretty little planet we found? I liked being a farmer. I liked providing. In the end, I also liked simplicity. Now, we could exchange insults all day. I'm sure there's all manner of names you'd like to call me. There's a wide variety of insectoid creatures or various mammalia that I could be called or with which I could be compared. Maybe there's some unsavory body parts you'd like to imply I'm like. Once that all got tiring, I'm sure reminding you that I once saved Laura's life and would give you pause. Isn't that all true?"

Six looked mildly intrigued at Baltar standing up to Adama. She crossed her arms and leaned back, letting the scene play out in front of her without comment for once. Adama himself remained undaunted but let Baltar speak.

"When it comes down to it, I'm a fan of living and I'm on the side of survival. Sharon, her baby Hera, and Laura leading the Fleet alongside you represents our collective best chance. I am committed to that."

Adama studied Baltar for a moment, weighing the past and the future in his mind.

"Report to CIC," he ordered, but before Baltar could move, Adama pinned him to the wall. "I'm watching you. Know that."

"We find our entertainment where we can," Baltar shrugged, as Adama released him.

'What a stimulating display of tenacity and stupidity,' Six teased, taking his hand and tugging him out of the lab.

…

Laura's protector shoved her back against the wall, flattening himself on the cold surface next to her. He pressed a finger to his lips, keeping her quiet as they listened to a lone soldier trudge through the halls. Reveille was still an hour away, and the corridors were deserted as sleepy soldiers dreamed of girlfriends, burgers, Pyramid Games, and other things lost to them in the Cylons' nuclear retribution. Adrenaline flooded Laura's system, pumping through her veins and causing her to shake with barely suppressed energy.

"How much farther?" Laura asked as the footsteps faded away.

"Couple more turns and a ladder. A raptor should be waiting at the aft storage airlock," the young corporal helping spirit her away muttered. "Pilot's a good man. He served under your husband years ago. He'll get you to Valkyrie."

Each newspaper delivered to her quarters spoke of increasingly dire conditions in the Fleet. The people were protesting the military and Dagon replied by sending troops to the belligerent civilian ships. The newspaper was covered with stories of altercations between Laura's Fleet security, who were dedicated to protecting the people, and the Prometheus boarding crews following their commanding officer's orders. Laura clutched the papers, realizing that Dagon was making the situation with a drunk Saul Tigh declaring martial law and causing the Gideon incident look like a gods-damned cocktail party in comparison to this brewing storm.

In the meantime, the Quorum was screaming for their President to be released. Knowing Zarek would put a bullet in her before letting her walk free, Laura took her fate into her hands and had been smuggling messages from her prison on the Prometheus to her followers in the Fleet. It wasn't all that surprising to learn the other Battlestar commanders were unhappy with Dagon, but he controlled the largest ship, commanded the most marines, and had her. Well, she could tweak that algorithm.

"Colonial One?" she asked as the man took her elbow and dragged her along behind him through the darkened corridors.

"As per your orders, they have been docked inside Valkyrie's hangar bay. The Quorum is aboard and safe," he reported, stopping at an intersection and sneaking a look around the bend. "Clear."

"Where is Kara Thrace?" Laura asked.

"No one has seen her since the funeral."

"What?" Laura breathed, stumbling as they rounded the corner.

"Madame President, we have to keep moving!" he said, tugging her hand. "We're almost there!"

Feeling a surge of triumph, she pressed on. Commander Ziegler commanded the Battlestar Valkyrie, and was an old friend of Bill's. Once he got Laura's messages, he'd felt both duty- and honor-bound to help. Together, they'd concocted this plan to get her out of this hell-hole. He'd promised to send his best to help with her jailbreak. Laura looked to the man pulling her along. Freedom; she could practically taste it.

"How's Billy?"

"Aboard Colonial One helping the Vice President keep the Fleet from imploding," he said, reaching a hatch.

"Thank the gods!"

"We're here," he said, grinning at her. Laura felt her heart skip a beat, and she gave the man what was now one of her rare smiles. Maybe she should add breaking out of military brigs to her resume.

Hearing approaching footsteps, the man's hands quickly spun the handle and wrenched the door open. "Quick!" he urged her, opening the hatch wide and urging her forward with a hand on the small of her back. Without hesitating, Laura jumped through the opening and saw the waiting raptor, hatch open and inviting. In front of it was a man in a flight suit.

She froze. The pilot was lying on the floor like a fallen doll, a trail of blood along the deck plate leading to a bullet wound on his back. Next to him stood Zarek and Commander Dagon.

"Ms. Roslin," Dagon greeted, inclining his head politely. Laura's horrified gaze flicked between him and the dead pilot. Her chest constricted and she let out a horrified gasp. "Unauthorized access of this airlock was a little suspicious, especially when DRADIS didn't pick up a raptor transponder. Old smuggler's trick to pick up cargo."

"Sir, I can explain," the young officer beside Laura began, trying to step in front of the President. Without warning, Dagon pointed his weapon at his head and the boy yanked his hand away from where he'd been reaching for his sidearm.

"I won't listen to traitors. On your knees, hands behind your head, he ordered. Behind them, the hatch creaked open again and a detachment of marines walked in. The approaching footsteps, Laura realized. She tried not to flinch as the Corporal was cuffed and dragged away. She looked to Dagon with a cold fury.

"Kara Thrace has returned from the little errand I sent her on back to Caprica to retrieve the Arrow of Apollo. Now, she's trying to hide on Valkyrie, but I'm going to invite her to meet me down on Kobol, and since you seem to want off my ship, I thought you could come with us," Dagon offered.

"Go to hell," Laura hissed.

Dagon looked down at the young, dead officer. "Yea, I probably will. But, I'll see my people to safety first. If you want to play prophet, then you are going to do your part, which is to help find the map to Earth. I believe in the gods, and if this is their will, I'll play along."

Beside him Zarek rolled his eyes and folded his arms. "The people need something to unify them again. Play along, Laura, and if you behave you'll be reunited with Kara and Billy," Zarek said. "And you'll be allowed to keep your daughter." Laura's eyes widened as a new fear pierced her heart.

"You're insane," Laura said.

"Get in the raptor, Ms. Roslin. We're going to Kobol."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: big thanks to my beta, and thank you all so much for your comments and support. This is an exciting arc to be reworking, and I hope you all love it. Let me know what you think!


	51. Home Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Please be warned, this section is rated M. There is nothing too graphic, but I thought it better safe than sorry to add a warning for violence and language.

This was a wild place. Kobol's green hills echoed with an ancient power that had now long lain dormant and forgotten. The grass, the trees, the air itself whispered of forces greater than any mere mortal could envisage. Secrets only known by the wilds of Kobol. All who walked over its emerald fields felt the same creeping sensation rise up through their bones—it warned them away from this place. The cloying mud and rain against their skin reminded them that they were unwelcome foreigners in this land even if no one had told them so. Everyone on Kobol realized they were foreigners who played but small parts in a greater story. A story that had begun in this place.

Laura stood on the rocky ridge bordering on Galleon Meadow of Kobol, looking out over the toiling people in the distance. Kobol's dim sunlight firing her hair, making her glow with the old power of Kobol, reminding those who saw her that she was one of the few welcome in this wilderness. Behind her, Zarek watched her radiating everything he wanted to claim and possess: authority, importance, and Laura herself.

"The people," Zarek crooned in Laura's ear stepping up behind her. He leaned in close, and Laura stomach curled when his warm exhales brushed against her ear. "To make change you have to control the right people and positions, even resources."

"You're using the water gathered here as a bargaining chip. Nothing really is beneath you," Laura said, folding her arms. Looking closely, she noticed many of those working wore prisoner red jumpsuits that marked out those who came from Astral Queen—Zarek's ship. His people led the harvest, and had practically weaponized Hestia's Hierarchy of Needs.* She'd often thought about that hierarchy as President while trying to make sure each ship in their rag-tag Fleet had food, drink, shelter, sleep, and oxygen. So many people complained about comfort while other ships were leaking air or missing food. And here was Zarek worrying about his self-esteem and freedom. She wrinkled her nose at the repellent man.

"I'd do anything for freedom," he growled. "I refuse to live again under the yoke of President Roslin and Admiral Adama. The Fleet deserves better than a fraud and a drunk who both play at peace with Cylons."

"Well, a blood-thirsty terrorist should be a step-up for the people," she taunted, turning to look at him. Despite heart-wrenching sadness in her eyes from the losses she'd suffered, there was a proud and defiant tilt to her head. "Last time, you had the chance to get on people's good side for years. But even at my lowest, the Quorum still didn't want you to take my place." Zarek took a step toward her, coming flush against her. Laura merly tilted her head further up to keep eye contact and raised an unimpressed eyebrow at his intimidation tactics.

In prison, he had learned that if you want to control someone you intimidate them. In a flash, he caught Laura by her pale throat, his thumb pushing her pulsepoint where he could feel her racing heartbeat.

"You're a firebrand, Roslin. I was always amazed Adama never got burned by you. He stuck by you to the end."

'To the end,' Laura thought. The fateful words she'd spoken when accepting the invitation to join Adar's campaign. For the eternities… Laura felt a traitorous tear trickle down her cheek. She flinched when Zarek wiped it away with the rough pad of his thumb. She wanted to push him away. Push him away and then wash the dirt and mud from this planet off her skin. Zarek was lower than dirt, and she felt a need to wash that man from her skin as well. From where he'd touched her to drag her along down to Kobol. She wanted to scrub raw the place where his breath had touched her. It all clung to her, like a slick oil that she doubted the rains of Kobol could wash away. Instead, she kept still, refusing to give him the satisfaction of reacting.

"Always had a soft spot for you," Zarek murmured, his thumb caressing the soft skin of her neck. "I'd almost forgotten how beautiful you looked while healthy. I'm guessing cancer is no longer threatening to drag you into an early grave alongside your beloved Admiral?" He enjoyed taunting her. He enjoyed watching the struggle behind her eyes as she tried to repress her reaction to him. "The press called your dead husband Zeus. Makes you Hera—the goddess known to be vengeful and vindictive toward those who cross her. There were so many times I should have killed you. I probably should kill you now," he murmured, increasing the pressure on her throat and grinning when she gave a soft gasp.

Laura didn't move to free herself. There was stubbornness in her that refused to be broken by the likes of Zarek. He huffed and puffed and she was calling him on it, or so she prayed.

"What's going on here?" Dagon's gruff voice demanded, coming into their peripheral vision as he and his charge crested over the ridge. Neither Zarek or Laura moved, but glared daggers at each other.

"Let her go!" Kara ordered. "You know she's frakking pregnant you gods damn frakface!" The pure vitriol in Kara's tone wiped the grin from Zarek's face. She launched herself at Zarek with a guttural yell, "Let her go!"

With his quick reflexes, Dagon yanked Kara back, holding her fast against him. Without hesitation, Kara swung the Arrow of Apollo behind her, catching Dagon hard in the side of the face. Dagon staggered back, allowing Kara to wrench free and rush toward Zarek, who released Laura and stepped back in fear. She slammed into him, sending him sprawling to the ground. She slammed her foot into Zarek's side. He yelled out in pain.

A gunshot cracked through the air, and the ground beside Kara and Zarek exploded, spewing pebbles and dirt in the air.

"Next shot will be to your head," Dagon warned.

Knowing Kara was too worked up to stop, Laura jumped forward and pulled Kara away from Zarek. The young girl kept spewing venom at the terrorist, ignoring the gun pointed at them. She moved to lunge at him again, but Laura's was the iron grip of a protective mother as she urged the girl to calm down.

"That frakking lowlife wants to kill you!"

"And Dagon wants to put a bullet in you right now!" Laura warned. Kara turned and noted the gun still trained on her. She narrowed her eyes, and Laura could see the desire in the cocky viper pilot to strike out at a target and inflict as much damage as she could before being shot down. "Kara!"

"Alright. Fine," Kara snarled, raising her hands in mock surrender for Dagon's benefit. "I'll behave," she spat at the wary commander. "But keep your backless joke of a terrorist under control."

Dagon glanced over at Zarek, then back at Kara and nodded, holstering his gun. Over the ridge, several armed marines joined them, alarmed at Dagon's gunshot. He motioned for them to stand down. Kara moved to Laura while Dagon approached his fallen comrade, hoisting Zarek to his feet. The women noted Dagon yanking his fellow Sagittaron close enough to whisper words of warning in his ear. Meanwhile, Kara held up the Arrow of Apollo for Laura to see.

"Turns out, Dagon is religious," Kara said in a low voice. "Says he found god during the first Cylon War. He knows his scriptures. Knows the Pythian Prophecy almost as well as we do." Laura snorted.

"Thought we'd never have to see that thing again," Laura sighed, tracing the lines of the Arrow. It didn't surprise her to learn that Dagon was religious. Most Sagittarons she'd known were. Their people, after all, had split from the infamous fanatically religious Gemenese thousands of years ago, but they never forgot their fundamentalist religious roots.

"He thinks if he can use this to get the map, the Fleet will unite behind him," Kara told Laura.

"He's not wrong," Laura murmured, shaking her head. "Are you alright? Going back to Caprica…"

"I didn't see Sam," Kara huffed, cutting her off. "I didn't see anyone from the resistance. I'm starting to hate this timeline more than the original. We've lost everyone."

"Not everyone," Laura said, pulling Kara into an embrace. For a few long moments, she held the younger woman, feeling the trembles of sadness and rage shake through Starbuck. Kara was holding onto her control by a thread. Laura pulled back and cradled the young woman's head in her hands, pressing their foreheads together. "Not everyone. Stay safe, Kara. I can't lose a daughter after everything. For my sake, please?"

"I'll try," Kara promised after a long moment of hesitation. The Old Man would want her to make the promise. He'd want her to watch after Laura and the baby. Lee would too. She could do this for them, cool her impulses and stay safe. "Helo and Sharon are onboard the Valkyrie. That's why I had to stop there first. Sharon knows how to reach where we're going—the Gates of Hera."

Maybe a rescue would come for them.

…

With the virus from their computer erased, Galactica was ready to jump back to the Fleet. In the Ready Room, Saul Tigh briefed the marine platoon that would storm the Battlestar Prometheus and relieve Dagon of his command. He'd be held in Galactica's brig until his role in their sabotage could be determined.

In his quarters, Adama had pulled on his utility uniform. The dark- and light-grey camouflage was something he'd been required to own as a member of the Fleet, but he'd rarely worn the uniform. He'd lead the mission to secure their President, be she on Colonial One, Prometheus, Astral Queen, or Kobol itself. He'd let nothing, not traitors or terrorists, stand in his way. They'd jump to Kobol within the hour. Of course, they were counting on the Fleet still orbiting the planet, and Adama knew that a two-week separation was an eternity in their dystopian reality. He hoped Laura hadn't given up on seeing him once more.

He picked up a framed photo of his family laughing in sunlight on a distant beach. Whatever forced them together, he loved his wife with every fiber of his being, and if Dagon or Zarek had hurt her… He set the photo down when he heard someone enter the open hatch of his quarters.

"I'm going with you. I have to help get them back," Lee said, giving his father a determined and outright defiant stare that channeled Starbuck's maverick spirit. It warned the Admiral that he'd be going along, orders be damned.

"They might be on Kobol. You remember what that was like. Any return to Kobol demands a price be paid in blood. I'm only taking marines," he said.

"I went through training. I fought through hell-holes most of those marines can't begin to imagine. The memories of all that crap might as well do some good, like yours have!" The anger in his eyes didn't cover the scared boy underneath the uniform. Bill could see the pain and guilt etched over Lee's face that his son couldn't suppress.

Bill felt a flash of realization and pinched the bridge of his nose. He glanced at the copy of the Sacred Scrolls left on the table, open to the image of the City of the Gods.

"It's all happened before and will all happen again. Reuniting with a wayward son on the surface of Kobol," Bill muttered, shaking his head.

"Reuniting with your partner," Lee reminded him. He followed his father's gaze and saw the open pages of the Sacred Scrolls. He frowned. "Do you think the gods enjoy playing with our lives?"

"Still an atheist," Bill grumbled. Lee stared at his father, until a bark of laughter escaped his mouth and then another. At his father's confused expression, he couldn't help the borderline hysterical laughter that broke free.

"I don't even know what to believe anymore!" Lee said, throwing up his arms. "I just know I keep making stupid mistakes," he admitted. In that second, the laughter died, and the guilt and pain returned. "I keep making stupid mistakes. And I want to fix them."

Lee's words hung in the air as Bill studied his son, weighing, measuring, and evaluating. He knew that at heart, Lee was a good man with no more sins on his conscience than Bill himself had. Lee remained his own worst enemy though, and Bill had come far enough as a parent to finally talk to his son.

"You don't realize what you've got until it's gone, Lee. It's always been your biggest problem, even as a kid. Kara, Dualla, Laura, and even Zak. You were jealous of your brother as a kid and barely made time for him, but when he died you lashed out at everything. They all slip through your fingers, and then you get angry once you realize what you've lost. Meanwhile, you're so busy seeing the world in absolute black and white that you take it personally when people fall into the grey area where reality actually happens. You put Laura on a pedestal, and get angry when she falls down as humans do. Kara loves you, or she doesn't. And your ego won't let you admit to being wrong."

As if someone had slammed a Viper into his stomach, Lee staggered to the couch. Holding his head in his hands as he processed his father's words. He hadn't spoken them unkindly, just with the same Adama candor that characterized most of his life, but he couldn't find the words to protest. He could only see himself standing in Laura's office, seeing the hurt flash in her eyes. He felt his face redden where Kara had slapped him hard after she'd learned he remembered and had kept it a secret. He felt the shame eating at his stomach like the most corrosive of acids as he remembered hesitating in his Viper when ordered to shoot down the escort ship before it destroyed the Battlestar Yashuman.

"You're right," Lee said, swallowing hard. The laughter of earlier was gone, now changed to tears he tried to choke down. "You're right. I need to do better."

"You're a good man, Lee. I'm proud to call you my son. But you need to stop being your own worst enemy. Kara never stopped loving you. She still does. Zak does. Liam does," Bill said. Lee felt the couch dip next to him as his father sat down. "And you were always Laura's so-called Captain Apollo."

"You know, I did try and explain how call-signs worked," Lee said, wiping his face free of the tears which wouldn't stop coming.

"She does what she wants," Bill shrugged. Lee sniffed, and nodded.

"You know, there's this stereotype, when a military dad comes home, everyone is happy to have him back. But I hated it when you came home. It threw everything off—our whole rhythm. Everyone would be so tense. Mom, Carolanne, was always worse to deal with in the days after you left. She always complained, and…" Lee shook his head, and Bill wondered, not for the first time, if Lee had told him the full extent of Carolanne's abuse. Lee cleared his throat and continued. "When we lived with Laura, she'd get so excited when you were coming home. The house would smell like cookies from her baking. She couldn't cook, but knew all us boys had a sweet tooth. One day, I realized Zak and I were excited you'd be at home waiting for us after school. We'd become the family I always wanted in the other timeline. I need to help put the family back together again."

Bill slowly nodded, regarding his son intently.

"Alright."

…

Maybe, thought Sharon Valerii, maybe it was only fair that her world had become as strange and nonsensical as Helo's had after she'd dropped her little 'I'm actually a Cylon' truth bomb on him. He hadn't handled it well. She was trying to handle this situation well, knowing that if she proved the humans' fears justified, she'd be tossed out an airlock. Her baby deserved better.

Starbuck had shown up back on Caprica like a hero of old on a half-crazed quest, daring anything, any Cylon monster or enemy skinjob, to stop her. Sharon reflected again on how the Viper pilot had marched right up to Helo when she'd spotted them in Delphi, the full zeal of her quest practically palatable in the air.

"Got any hidden programming or orders from your Cylon bros I need to worry about?" Kara had demanded without preamble, cocking an eyebrow. Taken aback by her brusque honesty, Sharon had shaken her head, words failing her. Missing no beat, Kara had ordered her and Helo to follow along and keep up. Too bewildered to argue, they did. Kara must have been able to sense their disbelief and confusion as she beelined for the Museum at Delphi, which housed the Arrow of Apollo.

"Boomer turned out to be a friend, but even if you're not, I don't got much to lose," Kara had offered in a clipped tone. Helo had finally slowed his old friend down, getting enough of the story out of her before hugging Kara close when hearing of Lee's death.

After a whirlwind adventure (less whirlwindy than Kara expected when Six didn't attack her, Sam didn't point a gun at her, and Simon didn't experiment on her), they'd rejoined the Fleet. Kara chose to land on Valkyrie first, knowing otherwise Dagon would kill Sharon on sight. She had to go back, though. He'd threatened to hurt Laura and the baby if she didn't, and she couldn't risk him carrying out such a threat.

"She knows how to get to the Tomb of Athena," Kara had explained to Commander Ziegler of the Valkyrie. "Use her. Dagon is vulnerable on Kobol, and it's the best opportunity you'll have to rescue the President."

Now, a group of marines gathered, all volunteers. Ziegler didn't trust Sharon, and was hesitant to risk the lives of the men under his command, but enough were loyal to the memory of Adama. Sharon waited by one of the Raptors, feeling each suspicious glance thrown her way. Some stopped and narrowed their eyes, openenly looking her over. That was fine to her. Let them. She tried not to let it bother her. After all, it was hardly surprising. She expected their disbelief, even their hatred. She'd seen all those emotions in Helo's eyes when she revealed who or what… no, who she was. Despite Kara vouching for her, Commander Ziegler didn't trust her at all. Helo had been confined to quarters pending Sharon's return with Dagon and the President. She was under no illusion: either she and the volunteer marines returned with the President, or she or Helo would die.

...

Dagon's overbearing marines guarded Laura and Kara while their group trudged along the path, the High Road, which lead them up the mountain to the Tomb of Athena. Their group slipped and slid in the slick mud of Kobol as the unending drizzle of rain plastered hair and clothes against their skin.

Laura shivered constantly, cold and wet in the mountain air. A kinder soldier than the rest, an old greyed grunt with kind eyes named David, had produced an oversized jacket for her to wear. The sleeves were so long, Laura had to roll them up to expose her hands. More than once the soldier tried to help Laura when she lost her footing in the mud and damp leaves, or when she became tangled in the branches and roots. Kara eyed him with suspicion despite each friendly gesture.

The details of the trek blurred together. Droplets of rain hit leaves and wind rustled the tops of the trees. With each breath came the musky, fresh smell of wet dirt. Laura pressed on despite the weight of her people's fate resting on her shoulders and the pain in her heart. She could distract herself by thinking of the visions of her daughter that she'd had—the pretty chestnut haired girl with Bill's eyes who ran through fields and chased butterflies. It soothed the pain a bit, but the worry about her baby was constant. Doc Cottle would have had a fit if he knew what was going on. He'd put the fear of the gods into Dagon, Zarek, and their posse of soldiers in reaction to their dragging his favorite problem patient across Kobol in her state.

Cold to the bone, Laura found the rains of Kobol a blessing. When she turned her head up to the sky and let the drops fall on her face, her tears could be hidden. The salt trails were washed away, keeping her grief from being a spectacle for her enemies.

"Keep moving," a marine ordered. Laura sighed. Her feet ached—a constant pulsing pain. Her back protested the hard pace Dagon set for the group. Physical pain added to her emotional turmoil, but she refused to ask for a break. She turned back to the path.

"Madame President," the marine warned again.

"Lay off, you frakass!" Kara snarled, stepping back to where Laura had paused.

"It's alright," Laura muttered in a rough voice. "Just needed to breathe," she explained, forcing her feet to carry her forward. She gave Kara a small smile. "I think that might be a new insult to add to my vocabulary, Starbuck."

"This trip is inspiring me."

"How are you doing?" Laura asked in a gentle tone, letting Kara know she wanted to know the honest truth instead of being given an empty platitude like 'fine'.

"It just… hits every so often. Just this wall of hurting. There's no way to climb over it. It's not just that they're gone, it's…"

"All the tomorrows you should have had with them. The memories that will never be," Laura said sadly. How many times had she felt this way? She thought of her sisters and the cousin Liam never knew. She thought of Bill and the cabin they'd never share.

"That's it," Kara nodded. "I can't stop thinking of all the times Lee and I frakked each other over. I'm not sure if we ever made each other happy, but I loved him anyway. We were a mismatched pair," she grumbled. "I felt ready to try. Maybe this time we'd have been happy." Kara leveled a threatening glare at Dagon and Zarek who walked ahead of the column. "Because of them, I'll never know." Knowledge from the other timeline allowed Zarek to claim to know how to find the Tomb of Athena—he told Dagon it was all the reading he'd done in prison. Dagon actually believed him. He believed in all the superstitious nonsense spouted by scriptures and priests. Kobol, it was said, held the key to finding Earth and so he'd find it for the men and women under his command.

"Kara," Laura warned, seeing the guard's features tense.

"There will be a reckoning."

Their group stopped to make camp only when Dagon felt merciful. Little parties split off to set up tents among the trees, but they never let their rifles go out of their reach. This was something the vindictive-feeling viper pilot took special note of as she hovered by Laura's side. Her eyes glinted as she watched the marines lay down their weapons. She took a step forward, but a hand clamped down on her shoulder, gripping hard enough that Kara yelped from the sudden pain. Dagon, as if reading her ming, glared daggers at the audacious girl and yanked her away from Laura. He threatened—over her angry sputterings—to clap her in handcuffs and chain her to a tree if she didn't behave.

"She needs to be less obvious," Corporal David muttered to Laura, coming over to help pitch the tent. His hands took over tying the knots that would hold the tarp over their heads. He gave Laura a meaningful look but chuckled. "Always liked a lass with spirit. Reminds me of my daughter, Bridget. Died back on Leonis a few months before the attacks. Glad she never had to live through this."

"I'm sorry," Laura offered. He spread a ground tarp above the wet dirt for them. It would still be a miserable time, but he was kind enough to be sure there were no leaks dripping onto their makeshift floor.

Surveying his work, he spoke. "Losing a child—nothing makes it better. You see, Bridget suffered from a neurological disorder. It was hard, but it was good to see her find some happiness playing music she learned in a special program the school offered her. Programs you created," he said, giving Laura a long look. Content with the work he'd done helping set up her space, he gave her a sharp nod. "Madame President, be safe."

Alone, Laura sat on the tarp under her shelter enjoying the small privacy she'd been given. It didn't last long.

"Did you have a vision of all this?" Zarek grinned, stepping into the opening of her tent and looking down at her. She noted Meier standing outside to keep watch.

"Maybe I had a vision of you dying here on Kobol, surrounded by wet dirt and broken twigs with no one willing to even dig a grave for you," Laura said pleasantly, as if the thought gave her great pleasure. (It did.) Zarek chuckled at the thought, sitting down on the tarp next to her. He chucked again when Laura shoved away his proffered ration pack.

"Well, since you are a fraud, I'm not too worried," Zarek said, tearing the wrapping off the package and taking a bite. He grinned when he heard Laura's stomach growl and happily took another bite.

"Yet here you are on Kobol to find a map spoken about in scripture."

"Dagon believes. Besides, it united the Fleet once before. I'll just make sure we don't fall to pieces when we reach your nuked paradise."

"What a plan. I suppose you blame me for Earth?"

"I blame you for giving up," Zarek snapped. At that, Laura looked away. He had a point. It was a time she wasn't proud of. She had given up. She was trying so hard not to return to that dark place again like she had when her father and sisters had died, or when Earth failed her. It would be so easy to let her feelings overwhelm her, to let herself start drowning without wanting to swim up. Retreating to some unreachable place inside herself where Dagon and Zarek couldn't hurt her, but where she was useless to her daughters and her people. Depression, her doctor had diagnosed after her family died. She'd gone through a time so dark that she'd feared having a family to lose again.

"I was never meant to be President. Never asked for it. Never trained for it. I did my best for my people," Laura said. "But you jumped at the chance to be President, clawing and grasping for power as if it were yours by right."

"I'm a revolutionary. Also an opportunist. I saw an opportunity to help the people."

"I'm sure."

"I'd like to help you too," he said, looking at her with his intense gaze while reaching out to trail his fingers down her arm and to her hand. He gripped her hand lightly, pulled it over to him, and placed a ration pack down on her palm. "You're proud, but also ruthless and cunning. There's still a lot you can do to help your people, to help your daughter," he said, curving her fingers over the bar before letting her go.

"Everything comes at a price," she pointed out, looking down at the food.

"I'd need to keep you where I could keep an eye on you," he explained with a grin. "We were once on the same side. Those were good times, Laura."

"I'll never forgive you for helping to kill my husband and my children," she hissed.

Surging with irritation, he twisted a hand up into her hair and forced her to look at him, their faces were inches apart.

"He's gone, Laura. The man who threw you in the brig like an animal is gone!"

"Who's the animal right now?" she demanded. "You're nothing but a…" The words were lost when Zarek's mouth found hers and clamped down hard. Strong hands pushed her back flat onto the tarp and she was unable to scream. Using his body to pin her down, he moved a hand to cover her mouth when he finally broke the bruising kiss. It prevented her from calling for help while his mouth moved down her neck and nipped at her tender skin.

"He's gone, and I'm here. I'm offering you protection, but you are going to have to learn your place," Zarek whispered against her ear, biting her soft flesh between his teeth. This was how it worked. He'd seen it in gangs. He'd seen it in prison. Power had to be transferred or taken, and Roslin wasn't giving hers up willingly. She squirmed under him, trying to break away from his invasive hand and mouth. He moved over her, teeth turning to tongue as he tasted the droplets of rain still clinging to her skin. He pulled down the zipper of her overlarge jacket. He bit her exposed pale skin and saw how quickly it reddened. He smiled at how easily she bruised. He was finally going to mark her to claim her. Her tears were no longer hidden by the rain of Kobol.

It was a nightmare. Her body shook and trembled in fear. But her fear brought rage, a burning hot anger that needed to see Zarek dead. It was primitive and instinctual as she fought and struggled against him. Anger boiled up in her, fierce and strong—against Zarek, against the gods who'd abandoned her, and even against her husband, the love of her life, who hadn't come back this time.

Senses sharpened from adrenaline. They heard soldiers moving around them. Laura hoped, knowing it was probably a vain hope, that they were coming to her rescue. Instead, they were yelling at each other, and they were grabbing their rifles.

"Tom, something is going on," Meier said from outside the tent, and Zarek paused his onslaught to listen. Laura's heart thundered in her chest, and she fought to keep her breathing under control despite the hand clamped to her mouth and pressing on her nose. She gave a muffled gasp when the first gunshot cracked in the air, echoing through the trees. Then another.

"What the frak?" Zarek muttered. He gave Laura a look before letting her go.

She greedily gulped down air. Zarek moved to the entrance of the tent and looked out. Without even thinking, her instinctive reactions having completely taken over, she shoved herself under the tarp at the opposite end of the tent and ran. More gunfire erupted around her and she looked around wildly. She saw Dagon's marines taking up position with their guns facing the direction they'd been coming from. She took off in the other direction, racing up the High Road and trying to put distance between them. She had no plan and had only one thought: survive. Getting through the next moment and then the next was all that mattered. Tripping over a root and slipping in the mud, she fell down.

Frantically climbing to her feet, she found herself grabbed and whirled around to face Zarek again.

"What the hell are you thinking, Laura?!"

"Zeus cursed Kobol when the gods abandoned this planet. Nothing that happens here is done according to their will. All those people whose blood is spilled, the cost of returning to this place, their souls will be forever lost. No one who dies on Kobol will see the Elysium fields. They just fade," she said, looking him in the eye. His grip on her arm was strong, but she was able to maneuver now. She felt her fingers close around the leather of the present David had given her when he'd bent to tie down a flap of her tent. He'd slipped it into her boot when no one was looking. Without hesitation, without thinking of anything, she plunged the dagger into Zarek.

The knife sank in deeply. Zarek screamed in pain, but Laura thought of the pain he'd caused her family and what he'd been willing to do to her, so she kept a strong grip on the knife. Zarek wrenching away, but only twisted the knife with his movements, making an awful squishing sound Laura could hear over the distant gunfire. Staggering away, the knife slipped from his stomach, and Zarek made a guttural crying sound as he tried to cover the stream of blood now leaving him. He was deathly white. Laura's aim had struck true.

"The people who die here just blink out of existence, just like you will. I'm going to find a way back to the Fleet and I'm going to make sure you are completely erased. Your soul will be lost here and every memory of you will be forgotten," she snarled, glaring at him as he fell to his knees, trembling like a rabid animal as thick blood flowed over his hands. "You have nothing!"

The light drained from his eyes, and Zarek fell back against the wet ground of Kobol, dead.

She stared at her fallen enemy for a moment. In her peripheral gaze, Laura noticed the dark shadows of marines making their way toward her. Knowing many of Dagon's men were fellow Saggitarons who'd shoot her on sight for killing their hero, she turned and scrambled up the path, trying to make her way over a hill. She was tired. She was so bone tired that part of her wanted to just lie down and hide. She heard men shouting and she turned around to see who was closing in on her, but didn't see the men rushing from the other direction until she collided with them.

She tried pushing against the arms that closed around her, but she didn't have the strength to fight. She barely had the strength to keep running. Someone was holding her so tightly that her face was pressed into their neck. She realized that a soldier had taken her knife, but the person holding her was shushing her quietly and stroking her hair and shoulders with one hand. She had no more tears to cry.

A deep raspy voice ordered the marines to keep moving. Her heart stopped, and she slowly looked up to see the concerned blue eyes of her husband. Tentatively, as if waiting for him to be nothing more than a cruel illusion, she reached up and laid her non-bloodied hand against his cheek.

"Bill?" she gasped, in a desperate whisper.

"I'm here."

Carefully, Bill lowered her to the ground and sat down next to her as if feeling how her legs might give way. He clutched Laura tightly against his chest, with a sound midway between a groan and a sob. With a fearful hesitancy, he let his hand trail down and rest on her abdomen, feeling the swell still there. Unable to speak, Laura could only nod and grip her husband tightly against her. He kissed her hair and held her head against him, letting her burrow her face into his neck as she breathed him in. They sat there together in stillness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a pretty intense chapter. My beta says I'm a horrible little person but also said I was forgiven. So. Drop me a review and let me know what you think!


	52. Home Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some rated M stuff at the end. Ye be warned.

"What happened to you?" Bill had to repeat his question for Laura, trying to pierce the dazed haze in which she seemed trapped. Tilting her head, she looked at him in confusion. His hands were sweeping over her as if searching for something. He paused, grasping her shoulders. "Laura, do you realize you're covered in blood?"

"Oh!" she gasped softly. She looked down, following his pointed nod. The hand that had held the knife was covered in crimson and there were smears all over her jacket as well. She frowned and began to tremble as she stared at the red, rubbing her fingers together and feeling it stick between the digits. She wanted to be sick, but focused her attention back on Bill. He was gently trying to examine his traumatized wife for injury.

"It's not mine," she offered, letting him move her around as she looked between him and the blood on her hand and torso.

"Laura?"

"You're alive," she breathed. "You're alive!" She looked deep into his concerned blue eyes. "My sons?" she asked, taking a deep, steadying breath, but her voice still cracked when she asked, "Are my boys alright?"

"Yeah. Liam's on the Galactica," Bill said, wrapping an arm around Laura as she sagged against him.

"Zak and Lee?"

"Alive. We're all alive," he promised. "Zak's helping Doc Cottle treat marines who were injured taking over Prometheus. Lee's down here searching for Kara."

Laura nodded, her mind processing what was happening and trying to decide how it could be real. Bill had come back, just like he had once before on Kobol, uniformed in grey camouflage and carrying a rifle he'd slung behind his back. His face creased with worry and his hands were probably the only thing keeping her upright. She was staring at him, taking in every detail of his appearance.

"You're alive," she murmured again, dropping her head to his shoulder, feeling how solid he felt against her cheek. One of his hands splayed against her back, anchoring her to him. She could feel each finger holding her in place, the strength and power in his grasp soothing her. What a strange thing to focus on, she realized.

The surge of relief Bill had felt at finding Laura morphed into concern and rage. He realized she was going into a delayed shock. She was white as a lily from Leonis and so very quiet. He wouldn't soon forget the glazed look in her eyes. Only shuddering breaths left her body. Somehow, their unborn child seemed alright, but Bill was going to drive his fist into the bastard's face who'd told his pregnant wife that her family was dead and then dragged her down to this planet. If he let it, the anger could boil over, but she needed him more. She needed his calm and strength, to feel close to him, so he stowed his rage and let her tuck her face under his chin. She didn't cry and they hadn't even kissed. Bill wondered if it was their normal professional reticence in public, or if she was too shaken to do anything but lean against him. Both probably; she believed in being strong in front of their people.

The few exchanges of gunfire had given way to silence. Bill had sent most of the marines ahead, a few guards forming a perimeter around the reunited Admiral and President. They were spaced among the trees, with their backs to the couple to allow them their privacy while assuring their security.

Bill murmured soothing words to her, knowing Laura wasn't ready to answer the burning questions he had. For one of the few times since he'd known her, she seemed fragile. From what he'd heard in a report from Tigh and Ziegler as he headed down to Kobol, his wife had stayed strong and fierce despite Zarek and Dagon's best efforts. She was allowed to have these moments even if he wanted to demand to know why she'd been running through Kobol's woods wielding a knife and covered in blood.

"How?" Laura asked.

"Commander Ziegler's reports. He said Dagon and Zarek were hell bent on opening that damned tomb. He reported you'd been taken down with them and that he sent a detachment of his marines with Helo's Sharon to try and catch up."

"There were gunshots," Laura remembered.

"And because I remembered where the tomb is and have a pilot or two that can actually land a raptor on that tiny ledge up there, I took a group up there."

"Dagon's group got caught in the middle. I ran," Laura suddenly pulled back, her eyes wild. "Kara. Where is Kara?" Laura began to move as if to charge back off in the direction she'd come, fueled, no doubt, by determination and mother's instinct while still existing in enough of a haze that the action seemed like a good idea. Still unsteady, she swayed on her feet and reached back to her husband for support.

"Easy there, Madame President. At least wait for the soldier with a gun," Bill said, holding her fast. She was a brash woman, he knew that, but not careless. "You're scaring me, Laura," he said watching her, noting her wide eyes, which took in her surroundings but seemed to look through it all as if not really seeing anything.

"Sorry," she murmured automatically.

"Get me a sitrep," Bill ordered one of their guards. The corporal nodded and darted through the trees to where the skirmish had taken place. The Admiral knew Lieutenant Wade and Sergeant Matthias would have everything well in hand as Galactica's marines took control of the situation. It was better to be certain, though, and he would do anything to keep Laura safe.

Dagon's group had stopped to make camp in part because the hour was growing late. Now the lush greens and earthy browns of Kobol were bleeding out and becoming a dull grey wash as twilight fell. The sun, hidden behind rain clouds, sank low on the horizon.

Laura and Bill walked through the trees, Bill keeping a guarded lookout along with the wary guards. He told Laura about the sabotage and repairing the Galactica. She stayed close to him, which he preferred. He kept an arm around her, keeping her reassured and steady.

"Sir, Commander Dagon's group has been subdued. Dagon has been captured," Adama's marine reported, returning to them. "Captain Adama and Lieutenant Thrace are waiting for you up ahead." Bill could hear the relieved exhale from Laura. She kept moving, undaunted by the thought of seeing Dagon again. Still, Adama noticed that it took more concentration than it normally would have for her to keep putting one foot in front of the other. He decided they'd see Kara and Lee, deal with Dagon and Zarek, and then he was finding a quiet spot to take care of Laura. She needed to see her children first.

The two reunited leaders heard Kara before they saw her. In full Starbuck rage, she was yelling. The stinging bite in every word she said was unmistakable and more than one marine cringed at her onslaught.

"...gods-damn self-righteous bastard, just walking back in here like you frakking do!" Sometimes Kara's voice was strangely muffled, and there were pauses here and there. "Stop frakking apologizing. I'm frakking mad at you." There was another break in the attack, but soon Kara was yelling again. "No! You're frakking late, Apollo. Have a hot date with your hand on the way down?!"

Moving carefully as night fell, Laura and Bill walked through the trees and caught sight of Starbuck. It quickly became clear what was going on. Kara was ripping into Lee and when she wasn't doing that, she was kissing him soundly, but only when it suited her. She hit him when that suited her better. There didn't seem to be an end in sight, so Kara continued full steam ahead while the marines gave them as much space as was tactically sound.

Lee kept a look of patent understanding on his face both out of a sense of self preservation and genuine desire to do right by Kara and let her vent. His attention was locked on his irate fiancé (he hoped he could still call her that). When Laura and Bill approached his gaze flicked to his stepmother.

He regarded Laura with nervous eyes that shifted around uncomfortably. Everything he said to her on Colonial One during their last meeting flashed in his mind. His throat went dry and he barely felt the next swing Starbuck aimed at him. The lack of a response irritated Kara, and she glanced to see what had caught his attention, only softening when she saw her adoptive parents. She looked at Lee coldly.

"Fix," she ordered, nodding at Laura and folding her arms. She was panting heavily as she recovered from her outpouring of Starbuck-like affection. She glared at Lee as he approached Laura. He'd been contrite enough with her and more than a little sincere sounding. Still, Apollo had fallen from Olympus and Kara was inclined to make him crawl to get back into her good graces. Lee's willingness to eat humble pie for once was starting to curb some of her anger. As was his showing back up alive. She sighed and took a deep breath, pushing back the blond hair that had fallen out of her ponytail. She was ready to kiss him soundly again for coming back, but she let him talk to Laura.

"I'm sorry. What I said was..." Lee began. Before he could stumble over more words, Laura grabbed her stepson and hauled him into a hug, shocking any further words right out of him.

"It's good to see you, and I know, Lee," she assured. Lee was instantly hugging his stepmother back, thanking the gods she wasn't inclined to be wrathful like his biological mother.

"I missed you," Lee said sincerely, finally able to meet his stepmother's piercing green eyes. He glanced between the two women. "I missed you both, and I am so sorry."

"You damn well better remember that fly-boy," Kara growled, giving Lee an approving nod. "You can finish groveling to mommy later. Right now, you're coming with me," she announced. After all, Kara's tough girl act wouldn't let her break down and cry in front of the rest of the soldiers, but she was, admittedly, relieved to have Lee back and in need of doing just that. After hitting him some more, of course.

…

"If you're feeling better, I'd still really like to know what got blood on the President," Bill asked. "Why is there blood all over my pregnant wife?" he added in a growl, a pleading note in his tone that was unusual for the reserved man.

Laura realized, as she came out of the fog her mind had protected itself with, that her husband must be tremendously worried about her. His professional facade was still in place, but there was no mistaking his look of loving concern. He'd kept his hand on the small of her back, physical touch keeping them linked since their reunion, fulfilling a need both of them felt. It was subtle and gentle while maintaining appropriate decorum. The reassurance they shared through the bond was something Laura needed, especially as she remembered what she'd done with the knife. She'd never killed anyone herself before, not even a Cylon—although, she never forgot that her presidential orders had sometimes resulted in death. She did what she needed to preserve humanity.

This time she'd watched the light fade from someone's eyes and her own hand had been the cause. It had been up close and too personal, she'd felt the warm blood spurting over her hand and felt how terribly fragile human life was. Using a knife to kill someone was dirty, close, and something she never wanted to do again. She had literal blood on her hands now.

"Laura!" Bill said, his voice like gravel, bringing her back to now.

"Sirs," a corporal interrupted before she could say anything. "Commander Dagon is under guard just over the hill there. We've still been unable to locate Zarek," he reported.

"Then get your men together and find him now!" Bill snapped, enraged that there was still a dangerous man out there while Laura was out in the open.

"He's dead," Laura said, looking at the blood on herself for a long moment before her eyes traveled up and met her husband's gaze. He studied her for a moment as a slow understanding took place.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Laura nodded, raising the hand covered in blood pointedly. "He's dead," she repeated, a cold edge to her voice. Bill motioned for the corporal to make himself scarce. "I took a human life, and there is no part of me that regrets that act."

"You had to protect yourself, protect the baby," Bill said, knowing she'd only have taken a life in self defense.

"The baby. Somehow she's hanging on," Laura took an unsteady breath, as focused on her daughter's presence, rubbing her non-bloody hand on the bump. She was still there, stubbornly refusing to let the outside world bother her despite her precarious state. Knowing how easy it would have been to lose her daughter on Kobol, Laura's steely resolve closed in around her. "Where is Dagon?" she demanded, suddenly feeling the wrath and fury of a thousand suns burning through her.

"Madame President…" The look she gave him ended any protests he may have made. "This way," he said, guiding her with his hand.

Stopping without warning Laura bent down, checking a marine's pulse.

"There's always a cost in blood," Laura said sadly, closing the eyes of the corpse of Corporal David. Even knowing the gods had abandoned Kobol, she said a prayer over the body of the man who'd helped her. He'd seemed a decent man at heart. Bill gave her the space, letting her do as she willed, knowing she'd do what she wanted anyways.

"Can your men make sure he's buried?" Laura asked her husband, and the Admiral gave a crisp nod before extending a hand to help her up. She murmured quiet thanks before moving on.

Dagon was bound, his hands chained behind his back. Someone, probably the glowering Sharon Valerii standing right behind him, had forced him to his knees. There was mud from Kobol streaked all over his military duty uniform. Dirt and grime were smeared across his face but it didn't hide the bruises and welts forming on his skin. They were strangely shaped, and a bloody arrow of Apollo discarded nearby made Laura suspect that Kara had something to do with the damage. She'd probably jumped the battle-hardened commander with nothing more than the antique that she'd been tasked to carry to beat him with.

Dagon glared and snarled at anyone and everyone, an unending stream of threats pouring forth. Blood and spittle flew out of his mouth in his rage. If he moved too much, Sharon's grip shoved him back onto his knees. He spat on the ground as Adama and Roslin drew closer, making a grotesque statement. It didn't phase either of them. No, their faces were hardened masks of determination and strength, expressions clearly showing their people that these two leaders would take on any puny Battlestar Commander who dared to challenge them.

Adama had drawn his gun, and was pointing it directly at Dagon's head. He wouldn't miss if he needed to fire, and no one was under any illusion that he wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger if the warrior who'd so fallen so far from grace even thought about moving in Laura's direction. Adama's aim was steady as he kept Dagon in his sights.

"Here to execute me yourself?" Dagon provoked, his nostrils flaring in anger. "I'd have made one of my corporals kill you." The marines standing guard raised their rifles just a bit higher and Sharon grabbed the commander's shoulder, warning him and holding him in place.

"Why sabotage Galactica?" Adama asked.

"I take care of my own. You and your pet Cylon are dangerous, and I wasn't taking any chances when it came to my people's lives. Didn't you learn anything from Adar? He tried to make peace with them."

"Adar was a moron," Adama admitted. "Then again, so were you. You tried to fix things by murdering all the souls on board Galactica and then by dragging the President of the Colonies down to Kobol while she's…"

Dagon had the audacity to laugh. "Oh, piss off. Your girl's fine. Seems capable of holding her own."

"That's Madame President to you, Mr. Dagon," Laura said. "Now let me tell you what's going to happen." She raised her chin, looking down at the man in the dirt with something akin to disgust in her stony gaze. "You are going to be dragged back to Galactica in chains. You will be held in the brig and kept alive until a court martial is convened. You'll be found guilty, stripped of rank, and sentenced to death for mutiny. After the firing squad executes you, your body will be jettisoned into space with no ceremony because the Fleet will be glad to see you disappear," she promised. Dagon looked between Adama and Roslin.

"Well, my fate seems pretty sealed to me. Got the balls to just pull that trigger now?" Dagon taunted, eyeing Adama.

"Justice must be served," Laura said simply.

"Justice? Well, I'm getting all emotional now."

"It's over. You lost."

"Keep an eye on him. If he tries anything," Bill said, locking eyes with Sharon, "use your discretion." The Cylon gave a nod of understanding.

…

Their tent was situated a good distance away from Dagon and the rest of the prisoners. Bill wouldn't allow even a subdued enemy near his President or his wife as night fell. Wounded animals were dangerous. As a precaution, Galactica's marines were stationed throughout the camp, more than a couple of whom still had lingering frustrations they'd willingly work out on someone making trouble. With safety assured, the true leaders of humanity sequestered themselves in their makeshift shelter. They'd return to Galactica in the morning when light returned.

Laura collapsed on the ground tarp, drawing up her knees and examining the drying blood on her hand. With the adrenaline wearing off, bone-deep weariness was overcoming her. After fastening the flaps of the tent for privacy, Bill took both her hands in hand in his.

"It was easy. I didn't hesitate," Laura said, watching Bill gently begin to wipe the blood away with a cloth he'd retrieved from his pack.

"Hesitation gets you killed," Bill replied knowingly. "First thing viper jocks, marines, medics, and all of us learn in battle."

"I can't stop looking at it," Laura said, spreading her fingers and watching her husband remove the offending crimson with great care. "I'm not a soldier, Bill. I'm still a teacher at heart. I don't want to feel nothing at killing someone, even if it was Zarek," she spat out the name like it was a dirty word.

Bill continued his thorough work, washing the blood away with the practiced ease of someone who'd done it many times. It reminded Laura of just how lethal her husband was. He'd killed others before by his own hand, and she knew that.

His understanding eyes found her own as the last red traces were wiped from her skin. Examining her, Bill was satisfied he'd left no trace marring her skin. Job done, he tossed the now grotesque cloth to the side and raised her hands in his, brushing an affectionate feather-light kiss to her knuckles.

"Don't waste your energy trying to feel something. I know you're a compassionate woman, but you also understand when something needs to be done."

"He looked me in the eye and told me my husband and my sons were gone. From that moment on, I wanted to see him dead," she said darkly.

"Understandable," Bill said. He felt a shiver travel the length of her body and then up through her hands where he gripped them. "Laura, you're freezing!" He noticed how icy her fingers felt clasped in his own.

"It's the rain. Didn't have a jacket at first."

Gritting his teeth to silence the onslaught of insults he could direct at the brainless grunts who'd not taken care of their President, Bill kept his focus on her. Her body continued to react adversely to the cold, and Bill realized she was still not in the right headspace to take care of herself. He shifted into tactical survival mode. She couldn't afford to get sick. Fighting any disease was the last thing her body needed.

"Let's get you out of these wet clothes," he said, keeping his anger controlled and his deep voice gentle and even. He reached for the zipper of her jacket but noticed her reluctance, frowning when a nervous shadow passed over her face. What the hell had happened, he wondered holding his hands up. "Laura, it's just me," he soothed, watching her bite her lip. After a moment, she let him help her out of the jacket as she trembled again. Rage pooled in his gut when he saw the angry marks on her skin she'd wanted to keep covered.

"Zarek," Laura muttered, and Bill's blood boiled. He saw red as anger blazed in him.

"If he wasn't dead, I'd wrap my hands around his throat to kill him slowly and painfully myself," Bill swore, glaring at the offensive marks as if the fire in his gaze could burn them away. Laura crossed her arms to try and cover them.

"I struggled but…"

"You don't have to hide or explain, love," Bill murmured, reaching out for one of her once more. "I'm sorry I wasn't here,"

"Not your fault. Gods, I missed you though," she said, his gentle care breaking the dam that held back her tears, and they finally began flowing freely down her cheeks. The privacy of the tent allowed her just to be a woman who deeply felt her husband's loss and return. Her heart still ached at the pain of believing him taken from her. "I missed you so much, thinking I'd never see you again."

"I'm here, we're together again," he promised, pushing the damp wisps of hair clinging to her face back behind her ear. Moving to carefully wrap her in his arms, he cringed at how cold and rain-soaked her clothes were. She leaned against while his hand slipped up the back of her shirt, feeling soft, cold, bare skin under his fingertips. He heard her soft gasp as he rubbed her back, letting the heat from his body warm her. He smiled when his wife breathed his name like a prayer, and he whispered soothing nonsense to her.

"Those frakkers weren't keeping me from you," he said, his deep voice carrying a dangerous edge, a warning for anyone who came between him and his wife. He was a dangerous man, she was a dangerous woman, and they were unstoppable together. "It's always been between us. We may have come down here separately, but we're going back together."

"Together," she agreed.

"Come on, we still need to get you out of these wet clothes."

"I don't have anything else," she murmured, glancing down at the marks on her. Bill moved one hand to her face and tipped it up towards him, looking deep into her eyes.

"It's just me, Laura," he reassured her. "You're okay with me."

Laura smiled slightly at his tenderness, his urge to comfort and care for her. He'd learned when to back off and give her space, but this wasn't one of those times. The iron-willed and stern-faced Admiral of the Fleet was a caring and warm man under his armor. His need to take care of his wife was practically palatable in the air, and she let him, trusting him implicitly as she did.

"Thank you, Bill," she breathed.

He carefully tugged her clothing off, continuing to stroke and caress each bit of bare skin he uncovered. Her skin pebbled from the cold and at his touch. Once his task was completed, Bill wrapped her in a blanket retrieved from his pack and spread her clothes out as much as possible so they might dry overnight. Laura chuckled at his military practicality, finding his pragmatism an attractive feature. The moment he joined her back on the tarp, she pulled at his own clothes.

"Come join me," she said, looking at him with a myriad of emotions, but most of all there was longing. It was so deep and sincere in her eyes that it stole his breath away as he looked at her. In her expression, he read the days of tension that needed to be released and her need to reconnect with him.

Making short work of his uniform, he joined her under the blanket, pulling his beloved wife close. The heat of his body met her cold skin, and she moaned the sensation of their bodies pressed together once more, a feeling she'd feared lost to her. His lips found hers while his arms wrapped around her body, his larger frame warm and wonderful against her own.

"Really thought you were gone. They had a funeral. Handed me a folded flag."

"I know. Heard you didn't take that lying down," he said, letting the pride show in his voice, leaning over and capturing her lips in a slow, sweet kiss. He felt her lips begin to move against his, mouth opening to him. Coming up for air, he noted a new gleam in her eyes.

"Damn right," she said. "I love you, Bill," she couldn't, wouldn't, contain the words as her hands touched everywhere, feeling warm skin under her palms.

"Love you too," he said, the tenderness in his voice overwhelming. Laura pressed her head against his chest, feeling his warmth and the strength of his arms around her. He smiled, bringing a lightness to his face that made him look less severe before kissing her face, her cheeks, her nose, and finally her lips. She grinned.

"You know, I should have frakked you on Kobol the first time we were here," she teased. Bill chuckled, knowing he should have expected something audacious from her, before kissing her deeply and desperately, all the grief and fear of the past weeks turning to passion. Their tongues dueled and caressed each other as Bill laid her down on the ground, coming to rest beside her.

"Well, that would have dispelled any lingering notion I had of you being a naïve little schoolteacher," he said.

Her heart thundered wildly as nerves sparked with pleasure wherever she was touched. She held him to her, tangling her fingers in his thick hair, reveling in their closeness. The anguish and anger she'd gone through were quickly translating into lust and desire, a need to experience something life-affirming.

"We've come so far since the first time we were here…" her further words faltering into unintelligible croaks as her husband used one hand to trace along her curves. She couldn't help but arch into his touch. He knew how she loved to be kissed and caressed, and he never disappointed. This time he was infinitely gentle and tender, mindful of her ordeal and the baby. He'd always been a thoughtful lover, balancing care and passion. Laura hummed her pleasure as he rolled her under him.

Their eyes met, and they felt their love binding them irrevocably together. Between the times they'd been on Kobol, their love had never waned and had only grown. He looked at the onyx pendant Laura still wore, remembering the moment he'd presented it to her as he'd finally come to believe he had someone who was his other half, someone created to be his soulmate. Laura was his equal, his other half, and he was more relieved than he had the words to express that fate had brought them back together, again and again. He let his actions speak all he felt for her.

Laura gasped when his body joined hers. Her husband's mouth covering hers, swallowing her mewling cries. He filled her senses so completely that the day faded away and their hostile surroundings seemed almost irrelevant. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck as their gazes stayed locked while rocking together, slowly and intensely. Pleasure built until she arched under him with a muffled cry while only a second later her husband followed her into blissful oblivion.

In the afterglow of lovemaking, Bill maneuvered them carefully so that he laid on his back while Laura nestled on his shoulder. They caught their breath together as Laura traced the lines of his muscles, still enjoying the feeling of his skin. The whole thing was impossibly intimate, comforting, fulfilling. Somehow, here in Bill's arms, nothing was amiss, and she was back where she was meant to be.

"Laura, go to sleep," Bill commanded. She was too genuinely exhausted to protest his order or do anything but obey. Her body was unaccustomed to trekking through the woods and had gone through an emotional turmoil that day. "Sleep," he said once more, resting his hand over hers, stilling her lingering movements.

As she drifted off to sleep, an ancient power stirred through the forests of Kobol. From every corner of the planet it echoed, whispering of a vanished world and timeless grief. Yet an enduring memory from the Cycles of Time sang out that the Leaders and the Harbinger had returned, once again setting in motion a chain of events that mortals could hardly begin to understand.

From the mountains of Kobol came a voice, unheard by those except to whom it called. Laura stirred from where she balanced in the liminal space between reality and dreams, hearing the distant call she couldn't explain. In her sleep she dreamed of a stone tomb and a sad woman, begging her to once more return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took longer to update, but we are living in interesting times with the virus. There was much adjusting in order to work from home. I hope ya'll enjoyed this latest chapter. My beta was kinda brutal this round. I would love kudos/constructive criticism. This is about what I felt comfortable writing smutty wise… for now.


	53. Home Part 3

Sometimes a dreamer becomes aware that they are dreaming. Bill Adama walked through the brightly lit forests of Kobol, unaware that his surroundings were nothing more than a landscape of the imagination. In the beginning of this nightmare, he breathed in sweet fresh air and listened to the birds while the sun beat down on his skin. He didn't question where his feet were taking him, though he held neither map nor compass to guide his way. He headed in the right direction, knowing someone was waiting for him.

"Laura?" he called, seeing red hair peeking out from above a fallen tree. Moss grew on the bark, covering the long-dead trunk and little white flowers poked out amidst the surrounding grass. Without realizing it, he'd started to grin at the idea of snatching a few secluded moments alone with his wife as he pulled his body over the log.

He looked down. A guttural, anguished cry ripped out from his throat at the sight of Laura's lifeless body discarded among the foliage. Dropping to his knees, Bill yelled her name, checking her neck for a pulse, but the blood on the surrounding leaves warned him that he'd find none. The cold knowledge that she'd miscarried and bled out on Kobol hit him. But that didn't make any sense, he thought frantically. No, he'd found his pregnant wife exhausted but very much alive and knife-wielding.

'You're afraid of what would have happened if you'd have come down too late,' he said to himself, realizing this was a nightmare. It wasn't real, but it still felt like he might die from the pain in his heart looking at her.

'Suppose you know how to bury her,' whispered a sadistic part of Bill's subconscious. A deep, instinctive part of him was always terrified at losing again the woman he loved, and he tried to claw his way back to reality.

Waking, covered in a cold sweat, and gasping for air, Bill pulled Laura tightly back against him. The tension from the nightmare melted away as her warm body stirred, roused from sleep by his reflexive actions. His old body protested against sleeping on the ground, but the pain was worth chasing his wayward President down to Kobol, Adama once again willing to do anything to bring her home. Needing to feel the baby's presence, he rested his hand on the curve of her stomach, the swell having become noticeably larger in their time apart. He pushed his nightmare back, feeling assured that everything was alright.

"She's moving," Laura said sleepily. "Fluttering." She burrowed under the blanket for warmth as she woke reluctantly. She covered his hand with her own, interlacing their fingers over her stomach. "Are you alright, Bill?"

"Just a nightmare. It's passed."

"'Sokay, I understand," she mumbled, turning in his arms to face him and nuzzle the soft skin of his neck, feeling the stubble on his chin gently scratch her forehead. "We've spent most nights apart—that was one of the prices that came with our fleet marriage. Despite being on the run, waking up at your side for the past almost three months has been wonderful," Laura snorted. "Did I just say that?"

"Yeah, you did," he chuckled, enjoying the way Laura liked to be with him and how she didn't take for granted the simpler joys of marriage. "We meant our vows."

Laura thought of how cold and lonely it had felt at night when she'd started to lose hope that he'd miraculously come back. She remembered the night after the funeral, when she could stop shivering and holding the folded flag. Shuddering, she knew exactly what kind of nightmares might plague them both.

"It's ok, Laura. I'm taking you home today," he promised, sensing her thoughts. Against his neck, he felt her brows furrow as she frowned in a look of concentration. There was a hard set to her jaw, warning him that he wasn't going to like whatever she was thinking and that he'd have more luck preventing the sun from continuing to rise than talking her out of what she was about to suggest.

"We've got to go back to the tomb," she said, and he certainly didn't like the sound of that at all. The scowl on his face must have given him away because she fixed on him with a determined look. "Bill, we need to go back. I know I can't explain why, but it's like something is calling me there."

"You're going to have to do better than that," he said in a commanding tone that all the officers under his command would have instantly obeyed, but it only made her want to object vehemently. So she did.

"Excuse me?" Laura pulled back, giving him a warning look. Bill wasn't sure whether that particular glint in her eye said 'I'm the President and you have to listen to me' or 'I'm your wife and you have to listen to me.' Either way, she had that familiar dangerously determined expression that meant she was going to do whatever she wanted.

"Laura..."

"Please, believe me," she said, her eyes softening just the slightest bit. He sighed, frustrated at a planet that was full of too many things that he did not understand and could not control. This was the planet of the gods and he was still an atheist. He was living through the apocalypse again, but this time he was one half of two promised leaders written about in ancient scripture. The other leader looked at him, hoping he could see past his misgivings, past the myths and prophecies he was thoroughly sick of, and have faith in her.

"Damn it all. Alright!"

Dressed, they emerged from their tent, Laura cringing at the bits of dried blood on her clothes and Bill holding his rifle. Morning mist stretched between the trees, dew beading on the leaves and grass. It made the hair stand up on the back of everyone's necks. There was an uneasiness in the fresh air of the dawn, along with a hint of smoke from the campfire, beside which Lee and Kara waited, perched on some rocks. They looked up when the older couple joined them.

"You heard it too," Kara said, noticing the expression on Laura's face. The Adama men shared a look of two men who'd rather have an ordered world where things made sense, but who'd reluctantly accepted a life with these particular women did not allow that.

"The arrow?"

Grabbing it from beside her, Kara held it up for them to see. It was heavy for such a small piece of metal. "Had to clean Dagon's blood off it."

Bill Adama motioned for one of the marines on duty to step over.

"The President and I will be leading a small group up to survey the Tomb of Athena, then heading back to Galactica," he began, laying out further orders about how he wanted the prisoners escorted back to Galactica and the marines from Valkyrie and Galactica to rendezvous back on their ships. Some of them would have to travel back down the mountain, Adama having only been able to land two raptors on the narrow ledge by the Tomb.

None of them wanted to remain on the planet longer than necessary. Laura in particular was itching to get back to Liam and Zak. Her heart wouldn't be fully at peace until she'd seen them and held them both in her arms. And they had responsibilities to the Fleet that were never forgotten.

"Let's go find this tomb of yours," Bill said, remembering how he'd used that reconciling line once before on Kobol. 'Every minute of everyday since then has been a gift… from you,' he'd told her, and Laura's slight smile told him that she was also remembering their conversation from long ago. Kara stood, grabbing the sidearm she'd requisitioned while Lee readied his own rifle for the coming hike.

...

"It's already open," Lee said as the Tomb of Athena came into view.

"Gotta love when something unexplainable and unexpected happens, don't you think?" Kara said, the sarcasm dripping from her words.

"Well, you never handled things staying status quo very well," Lee quipped, grinning at his words having meant them as a compliment and clearly trying too hard to get back into Kara's good graces. He fumbled a bit when Kara sent him a scathing look that could have melted the metal off a viper. "Well, um, I meant you are good at dealing with the unexpected… and…"

"You're walking on ice there, fly-boy," she warned. Meanwhile Laura and Bill were cringing and trying to muffle their laughter. Lee had the decency to blush scarlet and bite back a sharp retort.

"Here," Kara began, tossing him the arrow, "make yourself useful and put it where it belongs. Apollo should be able to handle the Arrow of Apollo right? I don't need to tell you what to do with it like I had to last ni…"

"Kara," Bill warned. She smirked as they watched Lee turn even redder while notching the arrow into the Sagittaron statue.

The tomb door slammed shut. They were plunged into an absolute darkness, and for a few long moments nothing happened. Encased in stone, their skin prickled as they waited. An instinctive fear at being buried alive, abandoned by friends, nagged at each of them.

Laura gasped when the first star appeared above their heads, a dot of pure white light. It hung high in the sky and around it flickered into existence dozens, then hundreds more sparks of light, bringing the sky to life. Gazing upward, eyes more open than they can be in the fullness of day, they took in the beauty of the night sky unmarked by any light on the ground. It became clear they were in an eerily familiar field that grew lighter as one star grew and shone brighter and brighter. Holding up their hands, they tried to shield their eyes from the blinding radiance.

Seemingly coming from all directions, a thundering voice spoke to the four, "You answered the call." The group trembled, their eyes completely shut, as they tried to reach out for one another.

"What the frak is this?" Bill demanded.

The mysterious voice then spoke directly to Bill, and he realized it was coming from the blinding light. "Surely even Admiral Atheist has the wisdom to believe what his senses tell him," the voice echoed into the sky. It had become clearly feminine, yet still powerful and daunting. "I am one of the Twelve who once lived on Kobol. Now... we are the One."

At this, Kara remembered in the back of her mind Sharon's, Leoben's, and Baltar's seemingly unending ravings about a single Cylon god. Tentatively, she asked, "The one?"

"The Lords of Kobol are the One True God and the One True God is the Lords of Kobol. The new is made of the old and the old gives way to the new. Nothing is ever really lost and everything always moves forward."

"I don't believe this," Bill Adama muttered to himself.

"Do you think yourself strong because your rational mind doesn't believe in fairytales? Do you fancy yourself wise?" the voice asked. The light got brighter and warmer—almost burning—and Bill dropped to his knees as the being overwhelmed his mind with its power and splendor. It was terrifying in its awesomeness, and his mind came close to the edge of breaking under the weight of limitless potential and infinite possibilities. For an eternity and a second he drowned in a sea of forever and felt like a single grain of sand on an endless beach.

In a distant-sounding voice, someone begged for it to stop, for him to be left alone. Having proved its point, the experience lifted from him, and Bill found himself being held up by Laura. Her arms were around him and her head buried against his shoulder, her own eyes unable to stand light.

"Did you ask us to come here? Why is all this happening?" Laura asked. She helped Bill rise to his feet despite the shaking in his legs as some of the being's radiance rescinded. Only Laura would dare to use her full presidential tone against a Lord of Kobol, but she was rather cross after what the being had done to the Admiral. He quietly gasped for air, trying to catch his breath while she continued to hold him steady.

"It is time for these unnatural cycles of time to end."

"Can the light show end too?" Kara demandeed, covering her eyes. Her usual piety had been abandoned in favor of irritation at feeling small and powerless. As asked, the light faded and they were able to open their bleary eyes. It felt as if they'd been looking straight at the sun, and they each tried to rub the sting away.

Before them stood a woman who may as well have been one of the twelve statues once placed around the Forum on Caprica come to life. Her skin was white and luminous like marble and she wore purple robes, which flowed around her like fabric even finer than silk. Crowned with a golden battle helmet and bearing a heavy spear, it was undoubtedly Athena. She radiated severity and majesty. Each of the Colonial warriors gripped their weapons—at the ready, just in case.

"Zarek did his part. He played his role and brought you to me so that we may finally talk," she said.

"You're responsible for what Zarek did?" Lee asked, horrified.

"You think freewill and destiny are so different?" Athena scoffed, raising an imperious eyebrow. Your choices bind you to your destiny and your destiny becomes but a single thread in a larger story. It's beyond mortal comprehension and yet…" She looked between Laura and Bill before glancing down at the pendant Laura wore with its etched symbol meaning 'soulmate.' "It's ultimately so simple."

"Well, I like things good and simple, so maybe you can explain to my poor little human brain what you want, just like the President asked?" Kara said.

The commanding Athena reared back, offended at the petulant tone of the mortal. After a moment she decided not to hurl her spear at anyone. Mortals were prone to their outbursts after all, and there was a tale to tell. "It all began on Kobol long, long ago," Athena said, her voice wistful and sad. She wove a story awesome in its scale. Telling them first about the Lords of Kobol, she explained that they were beings of great strength and wisdom with powers of creation that brought forth many beautiful and good things.

As she spoke, Laura, Bill, Lee, and Kara remembered learning this in school—about how chief among the Lords of Kobol there were the Twelve. At the pinnacle of majesty and power, ruled all-knowing Zeus and fierce-spirited Hera. Together, they led the Lords of Kobol in the creation of humanity, and the Golden Age of Kobol dawned with gods and humans living in harmony. Athena recalled streets made of shining alabaster, lush trees bearing fruit bursting with juice, streams of sweet water, and gleaming cities.

"What rose so high and beautiful then fell to darkness," she sighed, petting the owl that had come to rest on her shoulder. It hooted sympathetically at its mistress, nuzzling her cheek. "Hades came, marching up from his lair, each footstep like thunder and his black armor clanking. Behind him, he'd gathered an army of discontented gods and humans. He struck out against my father, and the battles began." She told them about the wars that engulfed Kobol, burning the forests and poisoning the streams. Hades, jealous of his brother's place, waged a devastating struggle. Athena remembered how the dark times stretched like a never-ending stormcloud on the horizon and how humanity lost faith in their creators as many of them became casualties in the fight. Athena stood there dominated by sadness, a solemn grief etched on her ageless face as she remembered a world that could never be restored. Her despair was a heady blackness that radiated from her, choking out some of the stars and causing the human's throats to constrict until Athena pushed away her memories of a beautiful and harmonious world.

"We created the Cylons, didn't we? To protect us," Laura guessed, and Athena nodded gravely.

"Humanity was unwilling to trust the Lords of Kobol with their safety. They lost faith. Some of them even made sacrifices to Hades so that they might be spared in the struggle. It didn't matter," she said. They learned that Hades had been able to turn some of the Cylons against their creators, just as some humans turned against their creators. "The Twelve became desperate. Kobol was consumed with war. Humanity struggled for survival."

"Desperate people do desperate things," Bill said. He declined to elaborate or admit that desperate people often do stupid things. He had a feeling they were about to learn that.

"They do. We called upon forces even more powerful, even more elemental than ourselves to create a weapon."

"The orb in my dream," Laura realized in a breathy whisper, and Athena nodded.

"It's called the Orb of Time or the Orb of Kronos. 'This has all happened before, and will all happen again,'" she said. With a wave of her hand, distant forgotten memories passed through their minds, whispers of timelines long forgotten. Laura saw a time when she was once named Ila and learned that she died in every timeline without standing on the promised land. Adama saw himself returning over and over again to Galactica, always commanding the ship in any time and space. Starbuck always dominated the heavens in a viper flying by Apollo's side and was adopted into Adama's family. Each circle of time Apollo saw, he realized he lost the people he loved too soon. The memories Athena shared ebbed and flowed away, and the humans felt staggered by what they'd seen. They wondered if they were hopelessly trapped in these cycles of time repeating itself.

"Time, we soon discovered, was one thing no one should meddle with," Athena continued, telling them about how desperate the Lords of Kobol became to see the Hades' destruction undone. They used the Orb to undo much of the damage and Hades was ultimately defeated. "Then, terrible things started happening. Machines stopped working. Healthy crops died overnight. Cities fell apart. Men and women grew old too quickly and died. Nothing was right, and every time the Orb was used, things got worse. To escape, Cylons built great ships and left, unable to eek out a living on Kobol any longer. Humanity was the next to leave, unwilling to trust their creators any longer as Kobol became uninhabitable. You've felt it, haven't you? The sense that something is not right here? The sense that you cannot stay here? You can't survive here?"

They all looked at one another, realizing that all of them, even Adama, had felt it. The planet, for all its beauty, felt doomed and cursed. There was something wrong with the ground they walked on, and something urged them to leave. Athena, seeing their realization, delivered the most important bit of information yet.

"The barriers between the cycles of time are already weakening, allowing people to sense other times long gone. The Orb is out there. The Cylon known as Cavil used it to reset time after his last great battle with you. Another cycle and reality will not be able to sustain itself. What's happened here on Kobol will spread throughout the universe. We gifted you with your memories, now your people have the ability to recover the Orb when the time comes."

"You want us to do your dirty work?" Lee asked. "I don't believe this!"

"We no longer permit ourselves to interfere directly in mortal affairs. We certainly shouldn't interfere more than we already have—granting memories to a chosen few, along with a few other blessings," Athena said, a ghost of a smile tugged at her lips as she glanced at the bump Laura couldn't hide.

"Then why the prophecies? Why the visions?" Laura asked, feeling Bill tense beside her.

"You and Pythia are the only humans ever to hold the Orb," Athena explained simply. At Laura's look of protest, Athena seemed to remember how linear humans were. "You'll hold it one day."

"Maybe we can use the damn thing to restore the colonies," Bill muttered to Laura.

"That would risk all of reality!"Athena warned and the light around her became like a flame that withers with heat and pierces with deadly cold. It warned them away from thoughts of using the Orb, as they felt her fear. "It must be destroyed."

"Goody. A quest," Kara said with no small amount of sass. "We've already got a job. Find a pretty little planet for humanity to live on."

"Continue your journey, but stay alert. You'll find what you seek if only you look," she smiled at them, and the light grew around her once more, forcing the humans to shield their eyes. "I must go. I made my choice and abandoned corporeal existence when I threw myself from the Gates of Hera as I watched humanity leave." Laura and Kara protested, having more questions they wanted answered. But the light grew strong and white around them.

'Tell me what weighs on you. Ask me what you will,' a voice whispered in Bill's mind as he turned away from the light.

'Why does it seem like everything is trying to take her from me?' His mind screamed out at her invitation. 'Don't you dare take her from me again,' he said as his heart twisted with fear that the timeline would repeat. His nerves were frayed at the experience in the tomb. He shook as white light enveloped him. He tried to look at it, thinking the being cruel, horrible, and beyond what he wanted to deal with.

'All will die. The gift of mortality is a terrible beauty. But even in death, the Lords of Kobol can never take her from you, you'll always be reunited. You were sealed before them following the ancient customs. Only the two of you can break the bond, and you never will. You'll never be free of her because you don't want to be,' the voice soothed.

The light faded and they stood back in the Tomb, the door standing open while sunlight and birdsong poured in.

"They have one hell of a sense of humor," Lee muttered.

…

Home was her family. Material wealth had proven transitory. Their worlds and most possessions were now no better than dark mush after snow. The people remained, ready to rebuild and endure, and her family persisted. Bill watched Laura catch sight of her sons waiting on the hangar deck, pushed to the front of the gathered crowd. Their faces were eager and excited, and he felt a deep contentment at knowing his family was complete and happy once more. It never failed to amaze him. He hovered close as Laura jumped out of the raptor and hauled Zak and Liam into her arms, very little concern for decorum standing between mother and children, even though there was a practical swarm of people on the hangar deck.

Personnel were everywhere. The press were held back by determined deckhands. Vice President Wally and a beaming Billy looked on from the higher observation ring. Laura gave her beloved aide a smile and wave. There were even members of the Quorum who'd managed to come aboard to see their president return safely. The people's excited chatter was practically deafening. It was a madhouse, and Adama would not let the inmates run this asylum. He held up his hands, commanding the crowd to silence.

"Allow us to make a statement, please," he said as the crowd quieted and the press whipped out their recording devices, practically drooling with anticipation. The people's rapt attention focused on him and the President who'd come to stand next to him.

"We have struggled since the attacks, trying to rely on one another. But our strength and our only hope as a people is to remain undivided," he said, his deep voice resonating over the crowd. Beside him, Laura intertwined their hands, a rare show of public affection, but an obvious display of unity. They were the united and determined leadership of the Fleet, promising the people that this was a front they could rely on.

"Many people believe that the scriptures are the letters from the gods and will help lead us to salvation," Laura continued. "Maybe they will. I do know this: 'The gods lift those who lift each other.' We must lift up one another and see this journey through together." The crowd went wild.

"Together," Bill repeated as the emotion of the crowd washed over them, reassured and jubilant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I'm thinking of adding a timeline to the end of the next chapter showing when things happened in this fic. There was a lot of extra lore adding in this chapter! I'm excited to finally reveal it. So excited to hear what people thought!


	54. You're Not Gonna Like This

There was an ache in Bill's throat, growing all day until he felt like he'd been wandering in the desert without water for days. It began when Laura emerged from the shower, her skin scrubbed to a bright and angry red as if she'd tried to remove an offending layer. Removing memories proved harder than a boiling shower and fingernails could handle, and a week after returning from Kobol, Laura remained troubled. At noticing his concerned gaze, she'd averted her eyes from him and looked down at the deck while getting dressed.

"I can still feel his hands on me," she admitted. "It makes me feel disgusting."

It broke Bill's heart to see his strong and indomitable wife affected by that scum Zarek's actions. His wife shouldn't be trying to cover her body as quickly as possible so that the still fading marks were masked. His hands shook in anger, and Bill wished he could make the person who did this to her suffer or at least know that he burned in a tortured afterlife. Bill would have tracked the bastard down himself and killed him if he'd survived, but Zarek was dead and Bill tried to support Laura.

"Don't think that way, Laura. Don't give him that power."

"I can't help but still feel dirty. I can't wash him off my skin," she said, buttoning up her blouse almost to her throat. Bill forced his stony reserve to remain in place, giving Laura the gift of his strength. These quarters remained the one place she could let down her defenses; beyond the hatch she'd become strong and controlled President Roslin, another side of the woman he loved.

Remaining calm, Bill gathered her in his arms. "I'm here for you, Laura. Whatever you need, whatever I can do," he said.

"Never change, Bill Adama," she said, leaning into the comfort he provided. After a deep breath, she pulled back, some tension having melted from her. Explaining how she needed to rush to a meeting of ship captains, Laura smiled, feeling better, before slipping on her shoes and leaving.

Bill wanted to help Laura forget, to condemn Zarek's memory into oblivion where it belonged. An ambitious goal when his own mind tormented him with images of another man's hands on his wife, harassing her. His imagination let him hear the whimpering sounds she would have made while trying to suppress her fear when she realized what Zarek intended, and Bill cursed himself for not protecting her enough. There were circumstances beyond either of their control, but he was a stubborn man who'd rather try to outdrink Tigh than admit something could happen to Laura under his watch. What he needed was for the damn universe to stop trying to take his wife from him, leaving him feeling powerless. 'Never change,' he sighed, baffled at her love for such an opinionated, reserved, and bull-headed Old Man. He craved a drink to calm the tornado of thoughts giving him a throbbing headache. His duty shift started soon, and disappointing his crew by showing up to CIC smelling like bad hooch was something he refused to do.

…

Becoming a religious figure to the Fleet ranked low on her list of experiences she wanted to repeat. She had wielded the Sacred Scrolls like a well-honed sword, using them to undercut the machinations of Dagon and Zarek. The consequences of her counterplay to their plotting meant that people once again looked to her with devotion, although some instead eyed her with suspicion. She found the cynics comforting, remembering the suffering a prophecy could bring. Playing her role as the Dying Leader, accepting a fate bestowed by the gods—it had led to a catastrophe and her burning the Pythian Prophecy that failed her people.

After meeting with the ship captains, she strode toward the Cloud Nine ballroom for a meeting with the bickering Quorum. As she passed, the more pious people bowed their heads and touched their foreheads, conveying their reverence as if she herself were a blessed relic preserved from Olympus. After a particularly excited devotee reached out and touched Laura's stomach, giving thanks for the sign from the gods, only Billy calmly pushing between the two of them kept Laura from instinctively reacting and making Saul Tigh look like a purring kitten. Knowing she was protective and jumpy after Kobol, Billy ordered her guards to do a better job keeping people out of arm's reach. They continued walking toward their next meeting, but Billy noticed Laura studying him.

"My sisters used to rant about strangers touching them when pregnant. Kate decked someone in the grocery store," Billy explained, noticing her questioning gaze. "I have a feeling you have a mean right hook, but it's better to keep your constituents guessing."

Laura chuckled. "You've grown up, Billy. Started to come into your own."

"Not sure I'd go that far," Billy said, his blush reaching the tips of his ears. He gave his boss a boyish grin as they reached the entrance of the ballroom.

"You got my messages, helped keep them—" she nodded toward the ballroom where the dull murmur of assembled delegates could be heard, "the Quorum—together and working. One day, if you want it, you could be President, Billy."

She left Billy with his mouth hanging open, eyes sparkling like a boy who had just gotten a puppy for Saturnalia. Laura chuckled again, loving the earnest and honest way her beloved aide traveled through life. She stepped up to the dias, and Wally shook her hand as she stepped up behind the podium. The President looked over the delegates, noticing Jacob Cantrell now representing Sagittaron. She realized that no one had mentioned the late Quorum delegate, their loyalty having remained with Laura once again. They seemed content to forget. Calling the meeting to order, they worked through the list of points on the agenda.

…

Admiral Adama's shift passed without incident. The Fleet soared through the stars, finding its equilibrium and resuming their dystopian normal in the wake of the attacks. People breathed, their lingering tension released after Dagon and Kobol. Commander Dagon remained locked in the brig and was allowed no visitors. Bill needed to start prepping the court martial, but allowing a traitor to rot in the brig longer than necessary didn't weigh heavily on his conscience. Dagon smothered any compassion he might have curried the second he ordered Galactica sabotaged, willingly offering up the crew as a sacrifice to the Cylons as casualties of war. Further, he'd allowed a prisoner to be assaulted, although Bill ignored the little voice that reminded him of Sharon, Thorne, and Galactica's brig. He blamed Cain for that incident.

Calm space allowed him too much time to think, and Bill proved to be his own worst enemy. By the end of the watch, Bill had worked himself into a troubled state. Dwelling on everything that happened on Kobol, he felt adrift at sea in a hurricane unable to find any quiet, and as a result, the ache in his throat grew. He'd come so close to losing Laura again, and that knowledge lodged in his heart, cutting through it like a sharpened dagger. His head throbbed.

"We still have that meeting you were acting cagey about earlier," Saul said as their watch ended.

"I never act cagey, and yeah, we're still going to talk," Bill said, gesturing for Saul to follow him out of CIC. Even on his iffier days, Saul Tigh remained an obedient XO, and so he followed Bill into the corridor.

"Sounds important," Saul prompted as they walked through the corridor, crewmen nodding as they passed.

"You're not gonna like it, Saul, but I've got no choice."

"Sounds ominous."

"It is," Bill replied, turning down another corridor as they continued in the direction of Saul's quarters. Not looking forward to this conversation, Bill hesitated as he tried to find the best wording.

"You know, if you let the suspense kill me I'll just resurrect and come right back. That'd be a real bitch to explain," Saul said.

"I'm promoting you," Bill said bluntly. He watched as Saul Tigh's lips pressed into a thin line. The Colonel couldn't have looked more peeved even if Gaius Baltar had popped out of his lab and kissed Saul's bald head. Tigh looked ready to spit fire as he trudged the rest of the way to his quarters, biting back the names he wanted to call his commanding officer.

Reaching the hatch to his quarters, Saul turned to look at Bill. "No."

"Come on, Saul…"

"Abso-frakkin'-lutely not!" Saul groused, pacing into his quarters followed closely by Bill.

"Prometheus needs a good commander. Someone who can whip them into shape, but also someone the President and I can trust," Bill explained, refusing to back down. Hands on his hips, he planted his feet on the deck and remained unmoved as Saul shifted around irritably. He remained unaffected by the scathing look Saul sent him.

"Does your darling wife know about this bullshit stunt you're trying to pull?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. She…"

"You should both be dragged down to Cottle and have your heads examined."

"You've come a long way since the Gideon. Been tried by fire and come out stronger and smarter. I have complete confidence in you. It's time, Saul."

Stunned by the sincerity with which Bill spoke, Saul stopped and sank into a chair. He released the breath he'd been holding and let his shoulders slump. He felt deflated, like the hot air rushing out of a balloon. Bill gave him a small smile and raised an eyebrow.

"Frak," Saul muttered, shaking his head. "Fine! And uhh… thanks, I guess. I mean, I won't let you down, sir, and… all that crap."

"You'll do fine. Promotion ceremony is in two days."

"I need a drink. Looks like you could use one too. Let's celebrate, I guess."

…

At the first drink, he felt some of the weight lifted from his shoulders. His thirst for mental clarity kept the ambrosia running down his throat. The release that resulted was indescribable. Bill was sick of feeling; done with dwelling on his fears and regrets until they made him nauseated. With enough ambrosia in his gut, Bill's inner calm returned. His hands stopped shaking and his mind focused. The booze released him from the worry and pain that had plagued him since Galactica's sabotage, since Laura became pregnant, since the Cylons came back, since Cavil kidnapped his wife, since Laura died and came back—hell, since he'd been told her cancer had returned or when he'd given the order to leave New Caprica. Released from that crushing weight, he felt steady and in control. With this new clarity, he reflected on what he always seemed in danger of losing and knew what he needed to do.

He strode out of Saul Tigh's quarters, putting one sure foot in front of another. Crewmen jumped out of his warpath, but he didn't miss a step. He never faltered or tripped and marched right into the brig and up to the iron bars. Calmed and collected, the Admiral stared at the prisoner while guards exchanged nervous looks. Dagon, laying on the bunk, spared only a glance for Adama. The fallen commander's armor was feigned disinterest.

"Gotta say, Adama, your marines aren't any meaner than mine," Dagon said, resting on hands folded under his head while he contemplated the ceiling. It shouldn't have been possible, but Bill's anger doubled. In his mind, the bastard behind bars should be begging for forgiveness for Galactica and Laura, not sneering at men and women better than him.

"How much did you know? Did you keep an eye on Zarek at all? He was a terrorist for frak's sake!" Bill snarled, keeping his face impassive but turning his voice into a vicious barb.

"Of course I did. I noticed he seemed fixated on the President. Didn't see the harm. Zarek wanted a plaything and it kept him amused. I could almost understand the appeal," Dagon said, and he grinned, determined to get under his captor's skin. He lashed out as only a man covering his own fears could, provoking instead of retreating. The resulting change in Adama could have sent even the Lords of Kobol, the One True God, or whatever freakish thing he'd seen on Kobol, running to the peak of Olympus in fear. As he told that thing on Kobol, Bill was done with any threats to his family and anything threatening to take her from him.

"Guards, secure the prisoner in his chair," he ordered, calmy clasping his hands in front of him.

Already pissed off at their charge, the guards wasted no time jumping into action. They switched off the part of their brain that recites the military code of ethics that may have dared to suggest that this might be a bad idea. Instead, they slammed the cell door open, the metallic clang echoing against the bulkheads, and advanced on the prisoner. Under the watchful eye of Admiral Adama, they hauled Dagon off his bunk, dodging the obligatory punches he threw in protest. The strikes only further pissed off the marines, who slammed him into the waiting chair, the metal legs scraping against the floor from the force of the blow.

"Guess someone's scared," Dagon growled, his chest heaving. He glared at Adama as they forced his hands behind his back and clamped them in cuffs. Snarled insults spewed from the bound prisoner. "You're nothing more than a soft, Cylon-loving, old man."

Bill Adama advanced on Dagon, composed and controlled as the guards lurked nearby. He continued walking, circling the chair like a lion circling its prey. He looked Dagon up and down, and his lips curled in disgust.

"You're a disgrace to the uniform," Bill spat.

Dagon barked out a dry, mad laugh. "I'm not the one pissing whiskey right now, Admiral."

His eyes narrowed, and Bill circled back around to look Dagon in the eye. He saw a man who nearly snatched away everything and everyone he cared about. Fear had driven Dagon to his chosen actions, having let the fear of the Cylon Sharon rile him. Bill's drunk mind contemplated fear—such a powerful emotion. It propelled people in directions they never would have rationally considered.

"Clear the room. Turn off the videos," the Admiral ordered, and his officers were smart and scared enough to bark out a 'yes sir' before scurrying away.

Bill reached behind Dagon and grasped a fistful of hair, yanking the captive's head back. Dagon hissed in surprise and pain as the Admiral wrenched his neck into a punishing angle. It forced him to look up into the red-faced and furious old man, and Dagon smelled the whiskey in the air.

"I'm going to hurt you, Mr. Dagon. I'm going to hurt you like you hurt her," the Admiral swore.

"Really bothers you that you couldn't protect her."

Adama's drink-addled mind couldn't find words angry enough, bitter enough, to wield. He reached out and his fingers closed around the rank pins fixed on Dagon's collar. Dagon flinched when Adama ripped the pins free from the fabric, the force straining his neck further until his face twisted. Adama held up the pins for Dagon to see, before throwing them away, casting them aside. They skittered across the floor making a soft, almost musical sound.

"Maybe she'll find a real man with red blood in his veins who can take care of her and the child," Dagon taunted. He stared into the Admiral's enraged eyes and refused to let himself be cowed. He'd smelled blood, sensed the Admiral's weakness, and he became determined to claw at that weak point until the man snapped and proved, at least between them, that he was the weaker man.

Dagon sighed in relief when Adama released his grip. The air had grown thick, and it was difficult even to breathe. Flexing and clenching his fingers, Adama rebelled in the mental clarity bestowed upon him by the whiskey. Giving Dagon no time to prepare, Adama slammed his fist into Dagon's head, a blunt crack the reward for hours spent boxing. There was no pause between blows and the next fist slammed Dagon's stomach.

Adama tore into him as if Dagon was less than human—just a thing, a punching bag, meant to bear the brunt of his rage. This man had threatened Laura, his sons, and his crew and he couldn't heal his family with this reminder around. Mercy was good until it hurt the innocent, and the unborn child Laura carried was as innocent as they come. Dagon quivered in his chair, his face covered in blood, and his insides on fire, and Adama told himself that this wasn't cruelty. This was justice. So he rained blows onto Dagon as if he meant to smash him into the deck.

Dagon's head lolled back against the chair, his mind dazed and fuzzy, but he grinned, knowing he'd gotten under Adama's skin. He felt Adama's hand whip out and close around his windpipe, and he was forced to look back at Adama whose eyes burned with hellfire itself. Adama kept his chokehold around Dagon, allowing him just enough oxygen to breathe.

"Do it," he whispered, as Adama's fingers twitched and tightened just a fraction around his throat. So wrapped in their standoff, neither noticed that the brig door had opened.

"Stop!" Kara yelled.

She rested a hand on his arm and felt the strained muscles begging to choke the life out of Dagon. When Bill turned to her, the embodiment of righteous fury, Kara forced herself to remain unmoved. The temptation to release him and allow vengeance to run its course became almost overpowering, but she loved her family more, and loved her father too much to let go.

"What happens tomorrow when the Fleet realizes what you've done?" she asked, her voice rough with understanding. "Murdering him won't help Laura, and there's no passing this off as self-defense. It comes with a price." She begged him to understand and reconsider, but certainly not for Dagon's sake.

In his mind the fear came back, reminding him of what he risked. He let go.

"Go home. I've got this," Kara said.

…

Bill didn't want Laura to see him like this. She'd be worried about him and then disgusted by him. Getting buzzed together on New Caprica was one thing, but she had always hated him drinking away his problems. He had turned to the bottle again, and if she caught sight of him sloshed, the triggered memories would plague her too.

The head in his quarters provided a hideout, and after he shut the door, he sank to the ground. There he buried his head in his arms and sobbed. He stayed there, not knowing how much time passed.

"Bill, come out and talk, please,"he heard Laura's voice ask as she knocked on the door.

"Laura?"

"Open the door!"

She sounded so worried, but he refused to remind her; to show her a beaten man who'd turned to drink when she needed his strength. He'd rather stay crumpled on the floor all night.

"Bill, you're scaring me," she said. He opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came out. "I will break this godsdamn door down if I have to!"

It was a solid door, but something in her voice convinced him she might be tempted to follow through on the threat. He wasn't going to let his pregnant wife take on solid metal, so he clenched his teeth and pulled himself to his feet. He avoided his reflection in the mirror, but his hands trembled once more. One hand pushed the door to open, and Laura gasped at the sight. The sound told him everything he needed to know about how he looked. He braced himself for the verbal tongue lashing he deserved, hoping the sting would rightly punish him.

It didn't come. Instead she studied him before her face took on a look of determination.

She guided him back into the head and closed the door behind them. Bill debated on asking her what she was doing, but her expression made it clear that there was no room for either explanation or negotiation. The silence stretched as her hands unfastened the gold buttons of his uniform, and she peeled the wool tunic back. She eyed the blood spots on it but didn't question why they were there. She pulled off his tanks and motioned for him to continue undressing. The task required more concentration in his inebriated state than it otherwise would have, but he obeyed. He heard the shower start and turned to see that Laura had removed her own clothes.

"Laura…" he began, but she hushed him with a gentle hand pressed against his lips.

"We're in this together," she said. "I know what you need. Trust me, alright?" She pulled him along after her into the shower. The shower spray rained down on them both, and the hot water elicited a hum of approval. She sighed and let her hands run across his chest in soothing circles, feeling taut muscle. He watched her hands as they comforted and caressed before looking up to finally meet her gaze. He saw only love and concern, and it humbled and shamed him.

"I didn't want you to see me like this."

Laura rolled her eyes. "You were never able to hide this, Bill," she told him. "I know drinking can help dull the pain, but you know it just comes back."

"Drinking has hurt you before."

"Yes," she acknowledged honestly, pushing back a wave of bitterness. The memories threatened to make her cry, and she covered it by grabbing the soap and working the lather across his body. This was about focusing on what they had in front of them and not what they'd lost or what they might lose.

"I'm sorry."

"It takes you away from me and that scares me. It turns you into someone I don't recognize. But you always came back to me when I needed you," she said. She felt her hands gliding over him, but he stopped her, pulling her into his arms and holding her close. The water ran over them. Her bare skin pressed against him felt comforting in its basicness. She cradled his head when he dropped it to her shoulder.

"I was afraid," he admitted.

"I know. After seeing whatever that was on Kobol, having another quest shoved down our throats, knowing what Zarek did to me, it reminded you of how easily all you love can be ripped away. But..." She pulled back and took his hand in hers. He watched her guide his hand to her stomach and water droplets ran down her frame over the bump. She rested his hand over their daughter. "We're still here, Bill, and I still love you." She wiped away the tears he didn't realize he'd been crying.

He moved his hands from the curve of her belly and wrapped his arms around her. In response, she wound her arms around his broad shoulders, just breathing together, letting him feel their connection.

"Don't you dare go down this dark path, Bill Adama. You have a family that needs you," she growled, emotion thick in her voice. "I watched you go down this slippery road once. I will not share you with a bottle, and I will not let our children witness their father poisoning himself. You are mine, and so help me gods, you'd better remember that. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he said and vowed to do better in the fight against his fears and nightmares. He bent forward to kiss her forehead. Laura pulled his head down and touched her lips to his. She allowed him to pull her close, letting him know he hadn't lost her, balancing understanding and warning. There were enough fears and demons between them without adding any more. …

Kara and Dagon silently sized each other up, but Dagon's jaw had swollen so much that he couldn't speak. He grunted and whimpered as he pulled at the handcuffs on his wrist.

"It's time for some quality time. A little heart-to-heart chat," Kara said, grinning as she leaned against the bars of the cell.

Dagon grunted and tried to glare at her, and Kara rolled her eyes.

"See, you're under the impression that you're gonna get a nice, tidy court martial. You know the vote will be guilty, but that stupid part of the human brain that just can't let go of hope thinks you just might pull a miracle out of this and get acquitted. You can spout off your honorable intentions and play on everyone's fear of the Cylons, and if that doesn't work you might get a clean firing squad. Wake the frak up!" Kara yelled. She pushed off the bars, laughing at him and shaking her head.

"We're not on Caprica anymore. You pissed off a bunch of desperate assholes living in the apocalypse. We don't play nice or fair. Even your old crew is turning against you because of the men and women you got killed down on Kobol." Kara clapped her hands, rubbing her palms together. She wore an expression of fevered excitement.

"Let's get real. You're gonna be dragged through the mud, but that won't be good enough for the Fleet. They'll demand you be pulled kicking and screaming through as much muck, and piss, and shit as they can pile on you. Every skeleton in your closet, every mistake you've made will be broadcast for the perverse pleasure of the people." She watched her words sink in. Dagon no longer struggled against his bonds. He watched her with wide eyes filled with something Kara wanted to call fearful knowledge. He knew she spoke the truth. He groaned. Kara scooped up the dossier she'd abandoned on the rack when she'd rushed in to stop Adama.

"The mission where you led your men into a trap? Aired." She flipped through a couple pages, snickering and laughing. "People will love learning about this disciplinary notice for spousal abuse. I think the Fleet let you off easy on that. And here's a paper claiming you were derelict in your duties because of cowardice. Now, we both know that's probably not true, but will the people really care? You separated the Old Man and the Old Lady and let her be hurt on your watch. Let me promise you, if you leave the brig, the crowd will eventually fight their way past the guard and rip you limb from limb. Painful way to go," Kara said. She tossed the dossier back on the bed and fished something from her pocket.

Carefully, she laid a belt on top of the folder.

"Think about it. I'll have the guards take the handcuffs off." She gestured to her presents. "Enjoy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might have become a wee bit more angsty than I intended. I would love to know what people thought! Timeline will actually be added in the next chapter. If there's a scene people wanna see, let me know.


	55. It Means Life

The apocalypse wasn't particularly good for morale. The people worried about being blown out of the sky by genocidal maniacs, and eked out an existence while the Fleet ran and discovered that on the whole Armageddon was an unpleasant affair. Moodiness descended on the Colonials as the adrenaline from the initial days of the attacks and the incident at Kobol faded from their systems. The tasks needed for survival dominated their days while at night they dreamed of the rolling hills and the blue skies of their destroyed homes. On each ship, tempers frayed and people took their frustrations out on each other when the fuse to tempers burned low.

A Raptor arrived from Colonial One and pulled into Galactica's hangar bay, bringing Sharon 'Boomer' Valerii and Laura 'Airlock' Roslin back home. These days, the President departed and arrived from Galactica so often that standard honors hadn't been rendered since just after the attacks—just another delicate protocol dance in which the two leaders of the Fleet engaged. Laura was more than happy to dispense with the stone-faced honor guard. The crew still snapped to attention when someone announced the President on deck, but once she put them at ease, Laura appreciated the warm greeting of Tyrol's deck gang.

When the raptor hatch opened and Laura took in the scene in front of her, she doubted that anything less than someone yelling at the top of their lungs would get the deck crew's attention. Sergeant Hadrain's MPs looked to be physically holding some knuckledraggers in place, and Laura winced at the sound of Cally screaming at another specialist who looked ready to explode right back. Chief sported what looked like a black eye to which Zak tended. It looked like a scene from a Fleet bar on Picon and wasn't something she expected to see on the Flagship. What in the name of Holy Hera was going on, Laura thought.

"Not again," Sharon muttered as she stepped up to help Laura, who was now pregnant enough to make it a precarious task, down from the Raptor.

"Again?!" Laura asked, shocked that something like this could happen on the Galactica even once. "Fighting on the hangar deck?"

Sharon nodded. "It's the crew rotation program. It was fine until they showed up," Sharon said and gestured toward a group of specialists who had been separated from the rest of the personnel. "They are originally from Prometheus."

Laura felt a headache forming. The people weren't happy and it was manifesting throughout the Fleet. The advanced preparations done by those who remembered the former timeline protected them and kept their bellies full, the diseases medicated, and workers their earned respite. But no one could give them back their homes and families.

"The whole point of the program was to help turn the Fleet into one cohesive unit, not turn us into a partisan mess," Laura sighed. The Fleet being divided with varying loyalties was a dangerous possibility. Deep in thought, she made her way out of the hangar deck. Zak caught her eye and, after a dramatic eye roll, gave her a wide grin and mouthed 'see you later' to her. She gave her son a smile and nod, feeling the familiar warmth spread in her heart every time she saw Zak, Liam, Kara, or Lee.

"It's broken up the monotony, but there's always going to be factions no matter what, although... I guess you could airlock me and that would help with some of that tension back there," Sharon said. The two women had relaxed around each other, and spoke candidly. Neither would claim friendship with the other in any lifetime, but memories of the future made strange bedfellows of them all. Sharon glanced over at the President. "Don't take that as an invitation."

Laura chuckled. "Even if your existence started that fight, it's bigger than you or me or the Admiral. Everyone is frustrated right now," she said. They both knew that the Prometheus crew remained bitter and suspicious over Dagon's suicide. Tigh earned a bit more of their trust and loyalty day by day, but he wasn't an easy man to instantly fall behind. He struggled with transitioning from mean XO to respectable CO. Meanwhile the Fleet struggled with their leaders' caution around revealing details on their destination.

"So you'd airlock me if I was the only problem?"

"One of the nice things about being President, Boomer, is that you can keep some things to yourself. I suppose the Admiral wouldn't approve," Laura said, knowing her husband's capacity for forgiveness was almost boundless. Climbing down the ladder to reach the deck where the CO's quarters were, she paused and winced, rubbing her stomach where the baby had decided to start using her as a punching bag. She managed to climb the rest of the way down, and saw Sharon looking at her with concern and longing. Maybe it was the hormones making her feel maternal, but she put her hand on the Cylon's shoulder. "How are you and the Chief doing?" she asked bluntly.

Sharon folded her arms as a frown formed on her face. "He now misses the days where the only complicated thing about our relationship was it being completely against regs. He's trying to get over me being a Cylon. The irony of that is about as funny as cranky Centurion," Sharon huffed, and Laura raised an eyebrow. "They can actually get pretty grumpy," Sharon explained with a shrug.

"Give it time," Laura advised and the two women parted ways to head in different directions on the ship.

No, they'd never be friends, but they could be allies, Laura thought. She paused at a junction in the corridor before deciding to attend to another unpleasant confrontation that had been put off for too long. She turned the corner and walked toward the science lab. Two meaner-looking marines guarded the entrance, and they saluted before one moved to open the hatch.

Baltar sat at a microscope, though instead of looking through the machine, his head was thrown back and his lips moved and twitched. Laura decided not to pay any mind to whatever was going on in the man's twisted mind and remained unperturbed at the strange behaviour he exhibited.

"Dr. Baltar," she said, interrupting his episode. Baltar jumped and fumbled after he nearly fell out of his seat. Laura couldn't have known, but there was an invisible Six laughing at the frazzled antics of her scientist.

"If it isn't Pythia's promised leader coming down to grace a humble mortal's presence, Madame President," Baltar said after he pulled himself together. He pushed his glasses up his nose and regarded Laura who remained impassive, as if watching a mildly amusing rodent.

'Careful Gaius, you're not exactly her favorite person,' Six crooned from where she knelt on the floor. 'I'm almost curious to see what would happen if you provoke her enough.'

"Sorry, I'm a little frustrated at being imprisoned. Ummm… what can I do for you?" Baltar backpedaled, deciding that he didn't want to see what Roslin was capable of doing to him when provoked.

Laura snorted. "There are worse prisons than this." She watched Baltar turn red and shuffle some papers around in his workspace while he twitched uncomfortably. She tilted her head to the side, contemplating him. "Why are you cooperating? You helped the Admiral fix the sabotaged computers. Doc Cottle reports that you've genuinely helped in his analysis of the Agathon's baby, confirming it's the same Hera we once knew…" Laura clasped her hands in front of her, projecting an aura of strength and calm. "Why?"

"It's my god-given job to protect Hera. It's your job too."

'How can you say that? She took our child once before!' Six demanded, standing up and stalking away angrily in a swirl of red silk. Baltar ignored her, content in the knowledge that the pregnant Sharon rested safely under house arrest with Karl Agathon.

"You really believe that?" Laura asked, surprised.

"I do. Actually. I really do," Gaius replied, trying not to shift under the glare Six directed at him.

'You're playing with fire, Gaius. She's not on your side,' Six warned, folding her arms.

"You've changed," Laura conceded, not sure if that knowledge pleased her or not. It was hard for her mind to reconcile the memory of the man she'd known as her Vice President and dictator of New Caprica, to the man who'd helped rescue Hera.

"I think you'd agree I was the one who needed to change the most, and I did as civilization was reborn once before. We both know that we both have a role to play in that rebirth again."

'What? Why her?' Six demanded. The elegant Cylon pushed off the wall she leaned on and prawled over to the President. Her red lips formed a scowl and she looked the older woman up and down as if trying to work out a puzzle.

"Why you?" Laura asked.

"Because why not? If a billionaire playboy who made his share of mistakes can find something greater then himself to believe in, couldn't anyone? I don't want to be your enemy, Laura. It didn't work well."

"I'll never allow you to run for office again," she warned.

"No, I don't suppose you would, and I also suppose that's fair. You're meant to lead us, I think. It's all happened before and will all happen again. Cylon detection work, Pythian Prophecies, Commanders and Kobol. But, we're here to break the cycle."

"Alright," Laura nodded.

…

Zak didn't like Sergeant Hadrian. He found her an unpleasant woman whose icy demeanor rivaled the frozen moons of Leonis. Those who found themselves on the receiving end of her ire regretted many of their life choices. The crew speculated that her greatest goal in life was trying to be meaner than Saul Tigh, but although she left many praying to the gods, Tigh remained the champion.

So when Hadrian marched out of Zak's parents quarters looking as if she had swallowed a bug and was now on the path to war, Zak jumped as far back against the bulkhead as he could. He tried to remind himself that he outranked her, but he didn't like confrontation. He'd never been the fighter Kara and Lee were. He realized she was probably pissed at the deck crews behaving like children, but who could blame the crew of Galactica for acting a little hot under the collar when outsiders decided to speak without thinking. The guards posted outside gave him a quick smile before he entered through the hatch. He spotted his father sitting on the couch and rubbing his temples to stave off whatever headache the unpleasant woman caused.

"Where's Mom?"

"Down here, Zak," Laura called. To Zak's surprise, Laura waved to him from where she lay on the ground with her feet propped up in a chair.

"Uhhh… hi?" Zak said as he moved over to stand over her. "You comfy?" He knew his father would be far more worked up if there was something wrong.

"There's this constant dull ache in my back all day and this is the only position that gives me any relief, and I need some peace after that woman," she explained and then laughed at his baffled expression. "It is what it is." She watched him sit down next to her all the while looking at her as if she'd gone a little crazy.

"You should take it easy," Zak said. The doctor in him knew how dangerous stress could be to a pregnancy.

"We already had a visit from Cottle telling her to take it easy," Bill said pointedly. The angry glare the two of them shot at each other, projected to the world that this was, in fact, a discussion that had been rehashed several times. Bill hated seeing how physically and emotionally exhausted his wife became, but Laura Roslin remained stubborn and obstinate and didn't slow down. At least she had a competent vice president and that wonderful aide who'd learned when to put his foot down and demand she not try and solve all the problems of the Fleet in one day.

Laura folded her arms in defiance. "I put down my reports after his visit. It's not my fault Sarah Porter called and demanded to speak to me after that."

"And then you just had to read the report on fuel consumption Dee delivered."

Zak sensed his parents might be able to go back and forth for a while. "Okay, okay! Just another fun day on the run. Can I get you anything?" Zak interrupted, and Laura smiled at him. The stereotypical middle child, he was the peacekeeper. He listened well and had an almost unnatural amount of patience. His compassionate blue eyes studied his mother, waiting to see what he could do. Zak was always so eager to please.

"Oh, this is just part of life, Zak. Although, these cravings… you'd be my hero if you could find some leola root tea or strawberries!" Laura closed her eyes and hummed in pleasure as she dreamed. "Or spicy Tauron noodles."

Bill's head snapped to look over at her. "You hate spicy food!"

"Tell your daughter that!" Laura said and shrugged surprisingly gracefully considering she still lay on the floor. She pulled the glasses off her face so she could massage the tension from her forehead. "Zak, what happened on the hangar deck?"

"From what I gathered, one of the new guys insulted Dad pretty thoroughly. Of course, the crew objected. When there was a rather suggestive comment made about Boomer, it sent even the Chief off too. I got called in to fix the boo-boos."

"That's what Sharon and Hadrian said," Laura said as she continued to rub her head. A headache was the last additional bit of general uncomfortableness she wanted to deal with.

"The idea to rotate crews, give workers a break, train reserves, well, it's working really well with the civilians. We've seen fewer cases of nervous exhaustion. People are getting the rest they need even if they still like to complain about everything," Zak said. He often went into the civilian part of the Fleet to tend medical needs even though he remained based on Galactica.

"Military crews don't like being separated from their buddies," Bill said as the hatch creaked open once more. They'd had an unending stream of personnel bringing their questions, comments, concerns, and problems to them ever since they got off duty. So when Liam bound inside it was a great relief until they realized his energy level reached higher than Olympus. He bounced over and dropped to kiss his mother on the cheek, more used to her stranger pregnant behavior than Zak since he lived there. This was far tamer than when he'd seen her cry over the extra pillows his father managed to acquire.

"Have you seen Kara's new setup with the Viper simulators? She just showed me!" he gasped and chattered excitedly. Meanwhile the comm rang, and Adama answered and listened to the latest trying-to-survive issue that had cropped up. This one could have been handled by someone else, and he might have responded to Gaeta in clipped tones. Maybe it was because people heard promotions were going to be handed out, many officers were out to prove themselves. He slammed the comm receiver back down, and turned to look at his family.

Liam and Zak were still plopped at their mother's side. Liam now peppered his mother with offers to take care of her, having sensed her mood. It was sweet, but Bill read the subtle tells that meant Laura was desperately holding onto her self control. He noticed she'd let Liam place a hand on her stomach. His grin meant the baby was putting on a kicking show for her brother, but it made Laura wince every so often.

One of the guards buzzed the comm. "Sirs, Lt. Agathon is outside. He requests a word with you both."

Laura sighed loudly. "I'm done for today. I'm done. Everyone has a problem. Everyone wants us to fix it!" The Adama men weren't used to Laura exploding. They eyed her warily as Bill ordered the guard to wait and approached her. "I'm sorry," she mumbled as he knelt down next to her. He smiled gently at her.

"Why don't we go for a walk. I hear Kara has a new training set up," Bill said and grinned at Liam's excited face. Laura looked less impressed until Bill let her know it was in the most remote part of the ship. He knew they couldn't remain in their quarters and hope for rest. "It could use the President and Admiral's seal of approval," he offered and heard a faint exhale of a laugh from Laura as her eyes lit up at the idea.

He took her hand and carefully helped her from the ground. When they exited their quarters, he dismissed the waiting Karl Agathon after he promised to follow up with the lieutenant later.

Laura threaded her hand around Bill's arm as they walked in companionable silence. It was peaceful in a way that only happened when they were together. Each of them resisted the urge to bring up business, knowing they needed a break.

The simulators were located in what would have been the main part of Galactica's museum. Kara had Laura requisition the machines ostensibly for the delight of children who'd visit the museum, but Kara wanted the ability to safely train new pilots should the worst happen. Rooks weren't the best at ensuring their Vipers made it back to the barn in one piece. They also weren't necessarily the best at coming back intact themselves.

"The museum—it looks so sad now," Laura said as they walked past darkened displays that were meant to be alight with children surrounding them. As they walked past a menacing-looking Centurion from the First Cylon war, Laura paused and looked up into its chrome-plated face.

"I hated the ol' girl being taken out of service and turned into a fossil. She was meant to fly among the stars."

"You don't like endings, Bill," she said and they both remembered how he'd avoided the ending of their favorite book, Searider Falcon. Bill hated that there was a last time for everything. No matter how inevitable, he kicked and resisted being the one to turn the page that needed to be turned to let the story end.

"No. It would have been a good new beginning for her, teaching and passing on knowledge. She'd have continued to ensure the future of her people."

"It sounds like you have a higher opinion of education than I once thought, Admiral," she teased and a smile lit up her face. She regarded her husband playfully. "Aren't you supposed to be rather stubborn Ol..." she grimaced, and placed a hand on her stomach.

"Are you okay, Laura?" Bill asked, no longer able to resist.

"I'm fine. It's just a small cramp. The baby is just making life interesting. I guess this is why the Colonies have never had a pregnant president before. It's nice to have a first, though, instead of always counting our lasts. Last surviving copy of this book or that play. Last strawberry..."

"You don't usually do morose," Bill said as they continued to walk toward the simulators. There were some Vipers and Raptors still on display; ships that needed more work than the Chief could spare right now to make them flight worthy.

"You flew this model first, right?" Laura said, stopping at a Raptor.

Bill reached out to touch the hull of the craft as they circled around it. "Yea. Think my CO wanted to take my overly cocky ego down. I was a hot-headed pilot and ready to prove myself. I thought my top marks during training guaranteed me a Viper and I got stuck in a rusty Raptor. It probably saved my life."

"I'm glad. I can see you being a bit of a… maverick, I think is the word. You enjoyed flying again when we awoke years ago."

"It's good. It's a rush. Everything is so simple inside a cockpit," he grinned. "Laura, do you trust me?"

"Yes," Laura said, catching the mischief dancing in Bill's eyes. There was an almost boyish excitement, which made him look much younger and took some of his stress away. He took her hand and pulled her over to the simulators.

"Come on, Airlock. Hop in," he said, pulling her over to one of the machines. Laura looked between her excited husband and the simulator.

"Have you lost your mind?!"

"I'll set it to an easy mode. No takeoff or landing. Just an easy glide through the stars. It'll be fun." He looked so happy, and Laura, already intrigued, had a hard time denying her husband anything that brought such joy to him. She let him help her into the seat.

"I guess it's worth seeing you laugh like this," she said. His grin deepened, and Laura couldn't resist. She reached up and pulled his head down for a kiss.

He had to lean over into the cockpit, unable to turn away from the feel of her soft, warm lips pressed against his mouth. His thumb stroked against her cheek as their kiss intensified. He wanted more of her sweetness and warmth. Then he felt her push against his chest, just enough for him to know he had to let her go. He looked at her flushed face as she grinned at him.

"Show me how wonderful flying is," she ordered and raised a challenging eyebrow. Accepting her challenge, Bill proceeded to point out the essential controls to his wife, just the basics of flight. Most of the readouts remained mysteries to her, but there would be nothing Laura needed to worry about in the simulation.

"Ready?" he asked, maneuvering into his own machine and booting up the controls. At Laura's nod, her cockpit came to life and she found herself in space. She had neither the training nor the stomach to go through the takeoff process, so she got to skip straight to being in space. Submerged in the darkness, Laura looked in every direction and saw the twinkling of countless stars. She felt like she could fly in any direction forever. It was like nothing she'd ever seen and the stress of the day melted away in her delight of the new experience. Among the heavens, she could ignore the pain in her back and the pressure and cramps in her stomach. Laura turned and saw another Viper beside her, but without meaning to, she had nudged the controls and her Viper swerved.

"Easy, Laura! That would have been the first crash in safe mode," Bill said, grinning at Laura's loud harumph. He remained delighted that she'd actually gone through with his impulsive idea, but his Laura was a free spirit. He could hear her smile through the comms as he taught her some basic flying.

"Not bad, Airlock," he said as she followed him into the nebula.

"It's a beautiful sight."

"Nothing like the view from the cockpit… almost nothing."

"Alright, Husker, I think it's time to bring this fun to an end. I'd stay, but these cockpits weren't designed for pregnant women," she said and the simulation powered down with Bill helping her out of the simulator a moment later. "That was amazing," she breathed.

"Yes it—"

Without warning, the ship shuddered underneath them and they could hear what sounded like a distant explosion. A split second later, the alert klaxons sounded. Slammed back into their roles as President and Admiral, Bill moved over to a comm unit on the wall. No matter what switched Bill pressed, the unit remained dead. "Comms are down."

Together they moved toward the main hatch of the hangar bay. Bill frowned, but he didn't feel the ship lurch again from any incoming ordinance. His mind ran through the list of possibilities until another alarm sounded in the hangar bay.

"That's a decompression alarm," he said as his eyes widened. He grabbed hold of Laura's wrist. "Come on," he ordered, already pulling her along after him into a jog. They reached the main hatch and he tried to pull it open, but it didn't budge.

"Bill," Laura said, pointing to a display by the door. It indicated the dropping pressure. A memory flashed in her mind of someone explaining to her how the bulkheads automatically sealed when the sensors detected a breach. There was a hole along the hangar deck somewhere, large enough that they were losing pressure and oxygen but small enough that they couldn't detect it, and they were sealed in with it. Bill realized their sobering reality too when he looked at the display. Making a split-second decision to ensure their survival, he pulled Laura toward a Raptor and threw them both inside.

Bill sealed the Raptor's hatch and began the startup sequence that would bring life support online. He could hear his heartbeat in his chest, and he panted as adrenaline coursed through him, setting his nerves on fire. He struggled with the sluggish systems that had gone unused for decades. Lights blinked to life across the screen. His face clenched in grim determination as he coaxed the old systems back to life.

The hard knot in his stomach untied as Bill watched the flickering display under his fingers show life support come online. He heard the hiss of an old CO2 filter come to life, and he let go of the breath he'd been holding. He'd bought them time. Damage teams and rescue personnel would find him and Laura when they noticed the President and Admiral missing.

Needing to reassure himself, he knelt before where Laura had collapsed in a seat. Her eyes were wide, and her hand curled protectively around her stomach. She looked flushed and was still trying to catch her breath. He laid his hands over hers.

"Are we going to be okay?" she asked.

"If I have anything to say about it."

Laura gave a relieved chuckle and tried to relax her body. "We'll be fine then."

…

They'd been stuck in the raptor for a few hours. Bill worked on getting the raptor's comm system online to contact CIC, but the system had been damaged and he worked to hotwire a replacement. He looked over at Laura who paced the small space, one hand on her back.

"How are you?" he asked, the worry he felt disguised by his calm voice. He refused to cause her any more distress, knowing she was worried about the baby.

"I'm fine. It's just a twinge. How's it going?" she deflected. The pain she felt was stronger than the last and she had to bite down on her lip to keep herself from crying out. Laura managed to suppress any vocalization. Satisfied with her success, she convinced herself that the technique would keep her quiet and allow Bill to focus on getting communications online.

Bill worked at the wires he'd pulled out from different consoles. The basic mechanical training pilots received came in useful for repairing ships, and he muddled through his task. His brows furrowed in focus as he examined the different pieces before him until a barely-suppressed groan caught his attention.

Looking back up at Laura, he noticed the light sheen of sweat on her forehead and the way her jaw was set. He felt an ice-cold dread spread through his body.

"You're in labor aren't you?"

"I'll be fine," she quickly responded. After a moment, and with a steely glint of determination in her eyes, she added, "They should find us soon or you'll get the comms working. I'm fine. It's probably nothing, just..."

Whatever hopeful platitudes she seemed determined to offer ended when her waters broke. Bill looked up to meet her eyes and saw genuine fear there. He jumped to his feet and guided Laura to the floor after she swayed unsteadily on her feet.

She stared at him in horror as she leaned back against the hard metal of the Raptor. "I'm barely seven months along. It's too early…" she gasped.

He watched her fight to get her panic under control as they eased her down onto the floor. She clutched at him, "Oh, gods, Bill. This is not how it's supposed to—" Her words were cut off as she cried out in pain. Bill hated seeing her in pain and remained beside her, letting her hold his hand as the pain gripped her body. Bill felt helpless. His heart screamed at him to help Laura, but his head fumbled for what to do.

"Breathe through it, Laura." Despite his own fear, he refused to let her see anything but calm reassurance from him. She needed him.

"I know. I know," she replied, looking at him and gritting her teeth. "Go. You've gotta get that comm system working."

This entire situation was something from his nightmares. He hated the idea of leaving her side, but she was right. They needed to get her to Cottle as soon as possible, which meant a rescue team needed to find them. He worked as close to Laura as he could and was able to remain within arm's reach. She focused on keeping herself calm and bracing her body against the pain.

The raptor trapped them inside sheltering and damning them at the same time. Its air kept them alive, but it smelled stale and old. Bill marveled at Laura's strength. There were no medications to help her through the pain, but she rarely screamed out. She didn't curse his existence or swear she hated him as his first wife had when she went into labor. There were no threats. Laura wasn't cruel in her pain and fear, even though Bill would have gladly taken anything she did if it would have provided her relief. He could tell she was exhausted, and her auburn hair stuck to her sweat-drenched forehead.

The small wires slipped through his hands, and Bill cursed, knowing that if he didn't broadcast an SOS, Laura would only have him to rely on. Fear and despair rose in him like poison, threatening his control. He hazarded a guess that the damage to Galactica was widespread with damage control spread thin. He looked up from his work and saw Laura watching him so much affection and trust in her look. She smiled weakly, and eased her body over to be closer to him.

For an hour as he frantically worked. He set the system to broadcast an SOS and hoped it would be enough. With nothing left he could do, he turned his full attention to Laura. They were both in a deep panic now. Her labor progressed, each contraction coming closer together and bringing a pain that dominated Laura's entire being. She breathed with closed eyes and tried to distance herself from the pressing fear.

"Laura, I need to examine you," he said, embarrassment having no place between them when her own life and the life of their daughter was on the line. She nodded wordlessly and allowed him to help lay her down against the hard floor of the Raptor before he also eased her clothes out of the way.

She looked into his eyes and saw his worry. "What is it? What's wrong?"

He couldn't be honest with her. He couldn't tell her he was terrified, the reality of losing both of them like a hot coal in his stomach. He wasn't a medic. He took a deep breath. "I think I'm going to be delivering the baby."

"It's… it's too soon," she dropped her head back against the floor. He pulled his uniform top off and slipped the waded material under her head before moving through the Raptor to look through the stores for anything that could help. He'd already discovered there was no first aid kit, but there were some survival blankets. He listened to her moans as another contraction hit and he returned with what supplies he'd found. She reached for his hand and gave it a surprisingly soft squeeze.

"You can do it. I trust you," she whispered.

It seemed to take forever and Bill spent each second trying desperately to remember details from the births of his other children.

"I need to push," Laura suddenly said, the two parents having to rely on instinct and gleaned knowledge in lieu of medical expertise.

"Yes, I'm starting to see her head! Push, Laura!"

"I'm trying! It hurts!" Laura was bleeding heavily. Tears poured down her face, mingling with sweat as she tried to find one last ounce of strength. Bill wanted to yell and scream for a rescue team to find them. He cast deeply worried eyes over Laura and saw how weak she was getting and knew he had to get the baby out as soon as possible. Laura cried through the agony and fought to stay conscious. Not having anything to work with except his bare hands, Bill did all he could to ease the baby from her body. Together, they brought their daughter into the world and Bill moved quickly to cut the cord and wrap the baby in the waiting blanket.

"My baby. I can't hear her. Why isn't she crying?" Laura murmured, her mind a haze of worry and exhaustion. Bill cleaned her small face and realized the baby mewled rather than cried, but she breathed little puffs of air for herself. The sound was so quiet.

He placed the baby across her mother's stomach and breasts. He watched Laura examine her small face. She seemed terrified, knowing the baby had come too soon, and it was clear the bundle was more survival blanket than child, but she lived. Laura tucked the blanket around her and held her small body close.

"She's so tiny. Gotta keep her warm."

"She's okay, Laura. She is beautiful," he said and refused to be ashamed of how freely the tears ran down his face. Laura cradled the child to her while Bill resumed taking care of Laura herself. She was still bleeding and he needed to tend to her. He balled up the other blanket, pressing it between her legs to try to stem the flow of blood.

"What's wrong?"

He pressed the material against her "You're hemorrhaging. I need to try to slow the blood loss."

Lacking medical skills, he stabilized her as best he could. Sore and tired, Laura sighed deeply as fresh tears fell from her eyes when Bill settled next to her to check on mother and child.

"I love you," she breathed.

"Love you too," he said, relieved that his family appeared to have made it through. Gazing into Laura's eyes, he realized he hadn't actually been in a Raptor with her for over sixteen years. She smiled at him before looking down at the softly whimpering child.

"Evelyn Judith Roslin Adama," Laura said, caressing the bundle. "Her name means life."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: thank you to all my wonderful commentators and reviewers. Your words are appreciated.


	56. Living Legends Pt. 1

A frakking raptor accident, he thought, and all because some irritated knuckledraggers had refused to follow Chief Tyrol's orders and were too pissed off to do maintenance on Agathon's raptor. The pilots ejected, but their raptor slammed into Galactica and caused hull breaches on multiple decks. The compromised hangar bay where Bill had been trapped with his laboring wife was one of the last areas rescue and damage control teams reached. Accidents like that carried a heavy price tag, and Bill shipped the guilty to Tigh to face his friend's tender mercy.

Bill stood from his desk and looked around the silent room. He struggled with not having somebody else there, sharing the space and making it a home. The emptiness closed in around him and he paced toward the bunk, wondering if he'd find any sleep. He braced himself against being forced to sleep alone, but the day drained his body of all physical and mental energy. He needed sleep.

There had been so much blood, he remembered. When his eyes closed, he saw Laura's face drenched in sweat and tears as she cried in pain. He let out a long breath and unclenched his balled fist, stretching his fingers over the blanket. He stared at Laura's side of the bed and noticed the book she'd left on the ledge above where they slept. Every night since Kobol, he'd read to her because she claimed it soothed the baby. Maybe it did, but it also brought a smile to his wife's face.

With a burst of speed, Bill strode across his quarters and out the door.

Only little noises disturbed sickbay, as if the patients knew to be as quiet as possible. The on-duty nurses knew to move out of the Admiral's way and allow him to approach his destination.

"Thought I ordered you to get some damn rest. You've still got a Fleet to keep together," Doc Cottle barked.

His shoulders slumped, but Bill stared straight ahead. "I needed to see her again."

Cottle heard the soft plea in his CO's voice. He pressed his lips together, but didn't stop the determined Admiral as he continued his advance on a screened-off area. Cottle sighed and slipped in behind the stoic man, watching as he approached the medical bed.

Bill looked down at Laura and reached for her hand to caress it. She looked pale, but her skin had at least been washed clean. Her red curls fanned out around her on the pillow, and Bill thought she looked peaceful.

"You did everything you could, Bill. It could have been a lot worse."

Bill shook his head. "It was bad enough."

Cottle nodded. "Luckily I'm a damn fine medic and had the foresight to put your headache-of-a-wife on the medications I did. It's like I'm a doctor and know what's best. Now if only you people would listen once every great blue moon. I remember warning you about her damn stress," Cottle said, irritated and bone tired. He leveled a glare at his CO, which was meant to remind the Admiral whose word was law within these walls. "Five minutes only, Admiral," the medic warned before stalking off to mutter and grumble someplace else.

Tearing himself from his wife's side, Bill moved to the incubator in the corner, its clear plastic protecting the little treasure sleeping inside. He longed to hold his daughter, but he settled for reaching a hand into the machine and tracing a finger over his daughter's tiny bunched fist. Small but healthy, Evelyn stayed safely nestled in the blankets and warmth. Bill hated seeing the wires connected to her, but Evelyn's steady heartbeat transmitted onto a nearby monitor reassured his rattled heart. He marveled at how small she looked and smiled at her wisps of red hair. He savored the knowledge that he now had a baby daughter, and his chest swelled with a warming pride that spread through his whole body.

"How is she?"

Tears welled in Bill's eyes. "She's perfect, just like her mother."

"You should be resting, Bill." At her gentle chiding, Bill turned and looked at his awakened wife. Her voice sounded rough and gravely, but her eyes danced with life and happiness as she gazed over at their daughter.

"I needed to see my girls again, just to make sure," he explained.

"You took good care of us, Bill," Laura assured him. "But let's not do that again, though. Okay?" Her joke was gentle, and she smiled at him tiredly. The labor exhausted and terrified them both and they were relieved it was over. He knew he needed to let them both catch some sleep. With a pang in his heart, Bill eased his hand away from sleeping Evelyn. His delight at having a baby daughter with his beloved wife and his reluctance to leave must have been plastered all over his face because Laura chuckled.

"She'll still be here in the morning, and she'd love a visit from her father," Laura teased as he moved to her side.

"They'll both be here in the morning," Cottle's grouchy voice reached them from the other side of the privacy screen. Bill bit back a growl of irritation, but Laura caught his reaction anyway. She giggled and urged Bill to listen to their medic before Cottle threw a tantrum.

"Fine. I'm going!" he surrendered, and Laura allowed him to kiss her goodnight. "See you tomorrow," he promised.

…

In CIC, contacts swarmed the DRADIS screen, too many points to count. Despite the obvious odds, the crew hardened themselves for combat. They knew there was no choice. At least the battle promised to be short—the tactical advantage was not on their side, even a rook could figure that out. The bandits outnumbered them.

Vipers launched, and as long as their birds were in the air they weren't defeated. The crew tensed in preparation, but they weren't overwhelmed by the enemy. Realization dawned on them, and relief radiated through their ranks like they'd all had their first sip of coffee on a cold winter day. Not bandits. They'd discovered friendlies.

"Admiral, I don't know what to say. This is a miracle," Admiral Cain replied into the phone she held to her face. Tension still coiled in her belly as the anticipation of battle slowly cooled in her veins. She studied the DRADIS above her, and assured herself that her warship would have obliterated them if they'd been Cylon contacts. Her face remained devoid of emotions as her crew broke into smiles. She hated premature celebration. She didn't stand down without the full details of a situation.

"You took the words right out of my mouth," Admiral Adama said and she heard him order his Fleet to stand down from Condition One. "On behalf of the Galactica and the Colonial Military, it's a pleasure to welcome you back to the Colonial Fleet," Adama said.

Cain bristled. She received the reminder as well as she might take a sucker punch to the gut—Adama surpassed her in seniority. She no longer claimed the dubious honor of being the highest-ranking member of the Colonial military left in existence, and that meant she'd have to take orders again. She ground her teeth as Adama ordered her to report to the Galactica, the antiquated 'rust bucket' of the Fleet, but managed a curt acknowledgement. Hanging up the comm, she commanded Hoshi to access Adama's military record ASAP before she headed to her raptor. She wanted to know what she was dealing with. Cain knew she needed to play nice, but she hated diplomacy.

Helena Cain cracked her neck as the raptor came to a stop on Galactica's hangar deck. The senior officers accompanying her picked up on their Admiral's 'let's get this over with' attitude and it dampened their own excitement. The renowned hardass approved of restraint. She wanted observations and hard facts first; afterall, the file on Admiral Adama presented only a polished official story of the man who now commanded her, a fact that pissed her off. She'd clawed her way through the ranks so she wouldn't have to take orders from old men.

Cain and her officers stood as the raptor's hatch opened and one by one they disembarked. When Cain herself stepped through the hatch, the assembled crowd gawked at her with open curiosity. Cain shrugged it off. People tended to question how she became an Admiral at her unusually young age. Let their little eyes bore into her, that was Admiral Cain's philosophy. In response she held herself tall and proud because she'd earned her rank. She jumped down from the raptor, wrapped in an invisible shroud of self-assured confidence.

Cain measured the stocky, craggy-faced Admiral waiting for her and she greeted her new superior with the required salute. Protocol served its purpose and reminded subordinates of their proper place. Cain had just believed her days of rendering the salute first were behind her, and her insides clenched as she snapped off the gesture. Adama returned and dropped the salute. His solid military bearing revealed little to Cain, even though she was observing every detail like a starving hawk, hunting for hints and weaknesses should she have cause to use them someday.

Moving on, Cain took in the woman at Adama's side, clothed in a fine tailored suit of soft grey, waves of cascading red hair, and proud regal posture. Pretty enough, she thought, but definitely Caprican. Cain hated Caprican women.

She guessed the woman to be Adama's politician wife; a potent connection that had secured his stars before Cain connived her way into hers. Adama presented the woman as the President of the Colonies, and Cain could have rolled her eyes at the convenience of it all. Of course good ol' fashioned nepotism survived the Cylon Holocaust, and of course she wasn't the one benefiting from it. Play nice, Cain told herself. President Roslin bestowed a soft, warm smile on Cain as the women shook hands. Cain hated bureaucrats.

She expected little from politicians, especially Caprican politicians. They were weak, but Cain bit back her distaste. "It's an honor," she said, meeting the little President's gaze evenly. She refused to play the role of submissive dog. Adama's guarded blue eyes watched the interaction, waiting for her to put a pinky toe outta line. Cain shrugged him off, used to dealing with harder, meaner men then Adama. As a child, she'd survived against gangs in the darkest back alleys of Tauron and pulled herself through starvation and exposure. Now she was renowned for being tough and uncompromising.

Adama gave a sweet little welcome speech to the newcomers and Cain surveyed him and his people. She found herself already writing him off as a tired man with a soft middle and an old raspy voice. It matched the motley crew around him and Cain's opinion plummeted. The whole undisciplined lot of them broke into cheers when Adama finished speaking. Celebrating crowds moved to embrace their fellow soldiers. Cain tolerated it. Morale meant something.

Adama and Roslin welcomed Cain into the Galactica CO's quarters, performing the expected act of polite hosts. Her eyes narrowed as she stepped through the hatch. Invited to the table for a drink, Cain examined the inviting space as she walked. The harsh metal of a battlestar disappeared under soft carpets, wood and leather furniture, and lights glowing a soft amber. Her own quarters weren't inviting and they weren't comfortable. People visiting her space never forgot they were on a heavily armed warship. Here Cain felt displaced, like ice trying to survive in the desert. She did admire Adama's eye for art, and was surprised to see a Monclair painting of the First Cylon War and his own antique weapons. She expected tamer pieces.

For the time being she was stuck with the two, so Cain watched their interactions and wondered what the deal was between them. Marriage of convenience, she suspected, a strategic move that ensured his stars and gave her a stable gold band on her finger. Cain noted how Roslin gingerly lowered herself into a chair and Cain pursed her lips when Adama hesitated and watched over his wife before going to grab drinks. Women who needed to be fussed over irritated Cain and deserved her dismissal almost as much as whipped men did.

Cups were filled with golden liquid, and Cain's lips curled at the murmured thanks and glance of appreciation Roslin shared with Adama. She hated tame, well-mannered women. She toasted the Twelve Colonies and brought the cup to her lips and tipped half the glass down her throat. Fiery warmth spread through her throat and settled into her stomach. She didn't sputter at the neat liquid—this wasn't the time to be soft.

"Good stuff," she said, openly surprised. The ambrosia tasted like the finest liquid smoke with hints of roasted nuts. Cain tasted more vanilla than she cared for and smirked at her own private joke. They could keep their vanilla; Cain wasn't that kind of woman, but she did ask for another glass. So, Adama seemed ordinary, but had his elite tastes: fine art, antique books, a high-ranking political wife, and good booze. Well, Cain appreciated fine things herself: she'd demanded command of a cutting edge battlestar, and she hated cheap swill.

More officers joined them at the table. Cain noted their ranks and names as she was introduced to the commanders of the last Battlestars; Commander Ziegler of the Valkyrie, Commander Pertinax of the Daedalus, and Commander Tigh of the Prometheus. All commanders. She'd effectively become second-in-command of a military that seemed sizable enough to do some damage. Good. The commanders greeted her warmly, as if enfolding her into their number like a long lost sister but with enough deference to please Cain. She admitted that it felt good to be wanted, and she spun her tale of survival. Cain might have enjoyed the exchange, but grew annoyed at the gentle, warmly voiced questions the President peppered through her story. She hated interruptions. She felt the irritated heat rise in her. Why did an ex-Secretary of Education need to be involved in these affairs at all? A simple schoolteacher shouldn't have any power over an Admiral of the Colonial Fleet.

After her counterparts were thoroughly impressed at her continued attacks on the Cylons, they supplied their own tale. They'd fled like ants from a flood, though Cain sensed a great deal was being left unsaid. Whatever. She accepted there would be gaps and missing information. Her foresight had Fisk performing his own unique type of reconnaissance with Galactica's XO, Kelly.

"You can send over your logs when ready," Adama ordered.

"Yes, sir," she said. The reminder stung.

Adama rose to his feet, signaling the end of their meeting, and the others deferentially followed their commanding officer's lead. Cain played along even though she disliked feeling dismissed. Even Roslin moved to rise, but swayed and sank back down gracefully.

"Are you alright, Madame President?" Cain asked, watching Adama's attention flash back to his little wife. She looked up and gave him a small smile, communicating with just a look. Cain watched her tilt her head back to smile reassuringly at Adama, and Cain's eyes travelled down the woman's lovely neck and widened when she saw the Tauron pendant. Oh.

For a moment, Cain and her arrival with a massive battlestar seemed not to exist as the commanders turned to their President. "I'm fine. I guess I haven't had a drink since before the attacks," Roslin laughed, a soft little gasp of a sound.

Ziegler grinned. "Well, you had a hell of a reason. Congratulations Admiral, Madame President."

"Are visitors allowed?" Tigh asked, finally sounding moderately excited, and Cain felt like she was missing an even bigger piece of the puzzle than she realized.

Roslin bestowed an answer on Cain. "I found out on the day of the attacks I was pregnant with our daughter. She was born just a week ago and isn't quite ready for visitors." Cain did a double take between the two. So, Adama was man enough to frak his pretty wife. That almost impressed Cain. She watched Adama's hand come to rest on Roslin's shoulder, openly affectionate. But when Adama looked to Cain, his gaze hardened. An open warning, Cain realized. She'd miscalculated by discounting genuine affection existing between the two. He was devoted to her. The wide stance, the cool gaze—he'd protect her, and Cain now knew his weaknesses. Now the cards are on the table, Cain thought, finding herself dealt a teacher playing president, a commanding officer with a mind focused on a wife and family, and some average battlestar commanders who'd gotten lucky.

...

Requested Timeline:

Before Cylon Holocaust

58 BCH Bill Adama is born.

52 BCH Laura Roslin is born.

40 BCH Cylon/Colonial armistice.

29 BCH Lee is born.

24 BCH Zak is born.

16 BCH Adama/Roslin marry and Liam is born.

9 BCH Adama becomes a Commander. Kara Thrace and Jack Cottle's memory returns.

7 BCH Adar becomes President. Laura kidnapped by Cavil.

4 BCH Adama is promoted to Admiral and ordered on covert mission.

3 BCH Sharon Valerii remembers the future.

2 BCH Peace Accords announced.

Cylon Holocaust

WEEKS AFTER CYLONG HOLOCAUST

1 Laura is 6 about weeks pregnant. Fleet jumps. Kara/Lee engaged.

7 W. ACH Galactica Sabotage Laura is about 13 weeks pregnant

9 W. ACH Adama and Roslin are reunited on Kobol.

10 W. ACH Dagon commits suicide.

25 W. ACH Evelyn is born when Laura is about 31 weeks pregnant.

26 W. ACH Cain arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Cain! I needed to post even if it is a bit shorter. Kinda hard to keep writing when feeling down at the times we live in, but I've tried to keep to posting once a week.


	57. Living Legends Pt. 2

Cain hated drama, and yet she found herself trapped in what seemed like a cheap, one-cubit paperback. Betrayals, sabotage, sex, love, and a deranged quest to find Earth. She rolled her eyes. They boasted all the plot points of a bad soap opera dedicated to Aphrodite. After their first trip to Galactica, Fisk, who reeked of moonshine, filled in his CO with more details. It seemed quite the epic, and over-the-top, tale of survival. To top it off, these clowns even claimed to have been bestowed a pair of mystical, larger-than-life leaders from the Pythian Prophecy. Well, Cain trusted her metaphorical brass balls over a pair of mythical anything any day.

One of the so-called promised leaders strode beside the imposing Admiral but struggled to keep up with Cain's energized pace. A grin cracked through her steely expression—high heels didn't belong on ships designed for battle. Cain slowed down. The Admiral had decided to give Ms. Roslin the tour herself, and in the process show the simpering schoolteacher a taste of what real power looked like. Cain thought it an appropriate response to the woman's oh-so presidential demand that she agree to meet and talk.

"So, what do you think?" Cain asked, as they entered her office.

"Impressive," Roslin admitted but offered no further praise or compliments. Cain pursed her lips but moved to pour them some water instead of flinging out indignations. Impressive? Cain huffed. Pegasus was a Mercury-class battlestar, designed to fight hard, smart, and long. Her ship and her crew represented the best the Colonial Fleet had to offer. In comparison, Adama's ship had the oomph of a child throwing rocks.

Cain handed Roslin a glass with a nod. "Water? You seem out of breath, but I understand. You're not used to anything this size. For all Galactica and her Admiral can boast, they don't really compare."

"Oh?" Roslin said softly as she sipped her water. Mirth danced in her eyes, and Cain felt like she was being silently laughed at. The Admiral noted the stubborn set of the other woman's jaw and knew her snub was received clearly by the too-polite-to-slap-her-down politician.

"Well, I admit Pegasus is my pride and joy. As is her crew," Cain said as she moved to her desk. She decided not to overthink why she wanted to provoke Roslin. At her desk, she pulled her trusted knife from her pocket and laid it down beside her stack of reports.

Roslin tilted her head and considered Cain. "I suppose every CO should be proud of their ship."

"I understand the appeal of Galactica. She's beautiful... antique. But that's not what we—"

"—we're here to discuss? No. I asked for this meeting to go over my requisition list for the civilian fleet—" Laura said, leaning against a bulkhead as if comfortable in the Admiral's office. Cain paused. No one claimed comfort in her utilitarian space, and anyone feeling comfortable in her space made Cain feel uneasy. She fiddled with her knife, and the cold metal nipped at her skin without piercing it. The sharpened blade calmed her as Roslin continued to speak. "—because Pegasus is somehow sitting on quite the stockpile of supplies, some of which are desperately needed by civilian ships in the Fleet.'

"I haven't had the chance to look it over," Cain replied and flipped open a report on her desk. Work needed to be done, and it showed that Cain barely agreed to grant Roslin an audience. Only her ship and her crew claimed her full attention.

"Soon, Admiral," Roslin ordered and Cain's hand fisted around the handle of her trusted knife. Cain looked up and stared down the politician. Roslin refused to flinch. For a moment, neither spoke. Raw energy cracked between the two women. Laura pushed off the bulkhead and drifted over to Cain's desk. "You don't like taking orders from me or Admiral Adama," Roslin murmured unexpectedly.

On the other side of the desk, Cain drew herself up to her full height, lean muscles tensing rock hard under her uniform as she looked down at Roslin. "No."

"Speak your mind. I'll let you do it off the record."

"There's a war to fight and my mission is to engage the enemy. I'm not interested in babysitting civilians." Angry sparks ignited between the two women and threatened to melt the very metal on which they stood.

"The war is over, and we lost," Laura said, her tone soft and bittersweet but with a note of absolute finality. Cain's gaze narrowed. An iron cold hardened her heart and she gripped her knife. It reminded her that she must do whatever it took to defeat the enemy.

"The war hasn't even begun yet. This Fleet has a full Battlestar group. We could fight back, we should fight back!" Cain felt like the mythical one now, spitting dragonfire from her mouth. The rage at the Cylons boiled deep in her and she spewed it out now as flame. Cain saw herself as an inferno that could reduce the enemy to ash if she but had the chance. "Unfortunately, humanity has an unqualified school teacher playing at being president and an old Admiral for Fleet Commander who should be retired. You know, I stepped over people like him to get where I am, so how the hell are you two supposed to lead us to victory over our mortal enemy while playing happy families?" she yelled.

Through Cain's rant, Roslin never stopped smiling; diplomacy and self-control were her armor and weapons of choice. "So we'd do better with you in charge? Or with people like you in charge?"

"Absolutely."

"Hmm. I'll admit, it's not what I've been thinking."

The conversation paused as Cain studied Roslin. She leaned forward. "And just what have you been thinking?"

"That I might need to evaluate your performance as Admiral."

Cain went still and her voice dropped to a deadly quiet. "Excuse me?"

"My office has been made aware of some disturbing rumors. Apparently, there was an incident with your XO and a situation with some civilian ships. I'm considering a thorough evaluation to see if I allow you to retain your command."

"How dare you!" Cain snarled. So, she'd made impossible choices in impossible situations, but as a result her crew survived. Her fury erupted. She flung her knife down and the force knocked over a stack of reports. Her lips curled as Roslin, who took a cautious step back. It would be easy to rip into her if she wanted. She paced behind her desk, clenching and unclenching her hand in a fist. If only the damn fool could slither back to Adama's bed in their too-cozy quarters and leave Cain to do what she did best: protect her people.

"I dare because I'm your Commander-in-Chief." Roslin's voice, while soft, came out strong. Cain hated it. She hated everything about this conversation. Rage boiled in her veins. A brief vision of grabbing the knife and throwing it at Roslin pushed into her mind, and it honestly wasn't the most unpleasant intrusive thought she'd ever had. Commander-in-Chief? Cain bristled.

"Yes, I was near the end of the succession line," Roslin continued. "Yes, I was, in fact, a schoolteacher. Yes, my husband was at the brink of forced retirement. And here at the edge of the human race being wiped out, we've kept the Fleet alive. Whether you like it or not, those are the facts. While I am President, and therefore your Commander-in-Chief by law, I will do what it takes to keep us alive, and if that means bruising your ego, so be it," Roslin said. Anger clouded Cain's mind as she stared at Roslin, who pissed her off by smelling of Caprican roses during a time of war and dared to talk about superfluous things like ego. She had certainly earned Cain's now undivided attention. The women stared each other down, Cain in her pressed blue uniform like a statue cut from ice and Roslin in her polished red suit blazing like a living flame.

"So, you want to stop fighting."

"No. And I'm not asking you to. Maybe you want to believe that you can make a last glorious stand against the Cylons with your impressive battlestar. You'd take a lot of them down with you in retribution, and there might be justice in that. There's certainly something admirable about continuing to fight when we've come to the edge of losing everything. But there's nothing to gain by letting our own anger hand victory over to the Cylons by engaging the enemy until we all die. So, if going down in a blaze of glory is all you want, I'll order your removal without hesitation." Roslin took a step forward, letting her words sink in. "Or, we accept this chapter of Colonial history is over and we start a new one. It's not a flashy victory, but while humanity survives, the Cylons never truly win."

"You have some fight in you," Cain allowed, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't misunderstand me, I am fighting till my dying breath for the Fleet's future, as I'm sure you want to for your crew's survival." It felt almost painful to admit, but Roslin's ideas intrigued Cain. She folded her arms.

"I'll do anything for my ship and crew," Cain growled.

"We have to live with what the Cylons have left us," Laura replied. She held up a hand stopping any further comments. "I think we've covered a lot in this meeting. There's a lot for us to think about, and there's a briefing aboard Galactica tomorrow. I think it might surprise you."

"Well, then I'll be there, Madame President."

...

"You know, she told me, 'I'm so very proud of you,'" Kara said, recounting a story about Cain from a long, long time ago. No matter how much time passed, Kara never forgot how every cell in her body had tingled like she'd experienced a cool onshore breeze that was pushing away a violent storm. Someone had proclaimed their faith in the viper jock, and she clung to that affirmation. "Cain sounded so sincere," Kara explained to her captive audience, Evelyn Adama, who lay in her incubator. She opened her eyes as Kara traced a finger down her pink arm.

"Not many people have told me they're proud of me," Kara continued. "People tend to assume hell-raisers don't need to hear it." Kara would admit that she blustered through Galactica's corridors as Adama's hotshot problem pilot. She self-identified as the belligerent badass of the Fleet, and so she hid behind an attitude bigger than a Cylon Basestar. Kara got away with it because she was that good in the cockpit, but she also knew if a knuckledragger tried a fraction of the shenanigans she pulled, they'd have been summarily dismissed from the service. How often did a person like that hear they were wanted?

"Your daddy always had a weak spot for me. You know, he always wanted a daughter. Now he's got you," Kara said, but not unkindly. She already loved her sister. A family member always stayed with the newborn baby and Kara stood her own watch in sickbay.

"Dad's got two," Lee said, causing Kara to jump as his voice reached her ear from behind. She listened as her fiancée meandered over to stand pressed against her back while his arms came and wrapped around her waist. Kara smiled. Their relationship was in a good place. It just took two lifetimes and some suffering to get to a healthy point. "You know, Zak and I were so excited to have a little brother, and we always loved Liam. But right before he was born, Zak asked if Laura would love her own baby more than her new stepkids. Even wondered if dad would love us all equally. In this timeline, Zak loved having a mom and dad who actually acted like good parents. They never stopped. No matter what, they kept on loving each of us."

"That was subtle, Lee," Kara sighed. "Gotta try and come fix things."

"Maybe. Just wanted to help. But, I can shut up and just hang out quietly if you'd prefer. I noticed that between Evelyn and Cain you seem thoughtful."

"I have a brain, Lee. Even been known to have a thought pass through it on occasion," Kara retorted.

"Yeah? Well, I just wanted to help in case it took a wrong turn with all those twists, turns, and cul-de-sacs that make up that brain of yours," Lee said, taking her sass in stride. Kara elbowed him hard, and Lee laughed, used to Kara's unique blend of amorous and violent attention. "I realize that there are a lot of memories we have to deal with, especially around people like Cain."

"You hated her."

"But you didn't."

"I did hate her, and I liked her. I looked up to her even knowing she was frakked up." Kara shook her head and tried to make sense of her jumbled thoughts and emotions. It felt like running through a constantly shifting maze. There wasn't one easy way out. No one path that symbolized a good, correct answer.

"My dad once told me he couldn't pass judgment on Cain, because he had people around that kept him from going down a similar path," Lee offered.

Kara gave a bitter laugh. Of course, there were no good, correct answers. "She's a frakkin' damaged, dangerous bitch, but you know what? So was I, Lee. I still am. But she's also a razor. Capable of setting aside fear, and hesitation, even revulsion. We need that when fighting for survival."

"You're right, we do need that," he admitted. Kara had listened to him chip away at the guilt eating at him over how he'd hesitated at shooting down the escort ship Agamemnon. As a result of his revulsion at shooting them down, the Fleet lost both the Cylon-controlled Agamemnon and the Battlestar Yashuman when they collided. "But we also have to be worthy of survival. We have to remember what we are surviving for," Lee said and leaned to whisper in her ear. "You're definitely dangerous, Kara Thrace. In fact, you could probably kill me with just a finger, but it's attractive. I know you, Kara. Your whole family loves you."

Kara let Evelyn's fist close around her finger and smiled. She privately admitted, Lee's sincere 'we love you' sounded better than Cain's 'I'm so very proud of you.'

"So what do we do? About Cain?"

"We stay focused on what matters and take it one day at a time," Lee said. "And we stop swearing so much around the baby," he teased, earning a strange snorted laugh from Kara.

"We should get going or we'll be late for the briefing," Kara noted.

…

Bill Adama worked at his desk surrounded by Admiral Cain's logbooks and his own records. His pride thoroughly appreciated not needing to hand his logs to a superior. His pen paused its scratching against the paper and he looked up. Normally his disciplined mind focused on his job without issue, but his subdued wife resting in their bed drew his gaze. Sadness tinged the air around her like the blurred edges of a picture and Bill's resulting concern tempered his concentration.

Earlier they'd visited their beautiful little Evelyn, or Evie as Kara had nicknamed her. In fact, mere minutes after waking, Laura had bolted from their quarters, pulled toward her baby. Laura glowed as mother and child interacted, her joy infectious to anyone who observed them. After they'd relished time with their daughter in sickbay, she forced herself to attend to the duties of being president. Their responsibilities never ended and while Laura gave each task the demanded attention, Bill knew how Laura longed for her child when they were apart.

As their visit concluded, Cottle lectured Laura on her need to rest and give her body time to recover. Bill grimaced, recalling the same conversation between himself and Laura from the night before. She'd come home tired and drained. To his surprise and displeasure, he learned she'd gone to Pegasus and met with Admiral Cain. Not only did his head-strong wife confront the Admiral but she'd done it alone. Was it too much to ask that Laura consider her safety? They'd argued about it. Their quarrel threatened to turn into one of their more heated verbal sparring matches.

The sheen of frustrated tears in her eyes caused him to back down. He didn't apologize for being concerned but recognized that her recovering body, missing Evie, and worrying about Cain strained her enough. Then there were her unending and useless dreams about the damn orb. So, a falling out between them, no matter how reasonable Bill knew his concerns to be, only promised further stress.

Bill shook his head; he married a determined force of nature with eyes wide open, and accepted all that entailed. Thinking of their argument, Bill tossed his pen on the table, forfeiting getting more work done. He pulled his glasses off and pondered how he found her ability to frustrate the hell out of him both endearing and infuriating. At least, she conceded to his concerns this morning by taking it easy and looking over reports in bed. He sighed. She reminded him of a storm at sea, gathering her strength, but the approaching briefing would tax her. He glanced at the antique clock on the wall and rose. At the moment, other ways of being useful appealed to him far more than his paperwork.

Bill walked over to lean against their rack. "Were you ever tempted to order my assassination?" Bill asked and a teasing smile softened his face. He chuckled when Laura stared at him over the frames of her glasses for a long moment, unimpressed.

"You seem pretty confident that there were no such arrangements made, especially with how insufferable you were when we first met."

"But you like a challenge."

She cracked and smiled a little, and Bill felt lighter. "Alright, there was no order. Was I ever really tempted?" She lifted her chin and met his teasing gaze with her own. His heart warmed at their verbal dance. He looked forward to these moments and treasured each one. She brought out this softer side of him and in this unforgiving fight for their lives, it provided the balance he needed. He waited for her response as she drew out the suspense.

"Once."

"When I threw you in the brig?" Laura shook her head with a throaty chuckle. He loved hearing her laugh but noticed her eyes still seemed sad. She leveled a quintessential Roslin stare at him.

"I could handle your temper tantrum. I knew that once you cooled off we would have worked out everything." He frowned.

"Temper tantrum?" He heard indignation like quiet thunder in his tone. She raised an eyebrow that dared him to object and he noted that under the surface both of them remained keyed up from the previous night's fight.

"You came close to having a hit ordered on you after the trial," Laura told him dryly and turned her attention back to her reports.

"You moved in with me instead."

"I'm a complicated woman."

"Gods help your husband," Bill muttered sardonically. Although he didn't crack jokes often, he wanted Laura giggling again. He felt pleased with himself when, after a stunned pause, giggles rolled out of her in growing fits and bursts. He grinned.

"So say we all," she laughed. She dropped her reports on her lap and reached for his hand, their gold rings catching the light. "How about we stay away from assassination plots? At least for the time being." Laura said. Her gentle tone softened the harsh truth to which she referred. The order to eliminate Cain remained burned in their minds.

"Agreed. You're scary when you get bloody-minded."

"Well, I only get bloody-minded when I'm scared," she admitted. He squeezed her hand, offering reassurance and support. She met his gaze. "Bill, I wanted to leave the world knowing my people were safe, knowing you were safe," Laura offered her explanation so earnest, and it pained Bill to know the desperation she must have once felt nearing the end of her life with so much weighing on her. She took a deep breath and shook her head. "And here we are again. I can hardly sleep wondering if we're safe: you, me, our children, and the Fleet."

"We are. For now."

"And if that changes?"

"Then I'll take care of it," he swore. She paused but then nodded, absolute trust in him shining in her green eyes. Her complete faith remained one of the greatest gifts she'd given him. He eased forward and kissed her forehead. A cloud of sadness still wrapped her in its fog, but she clearly appreciated the loving gesture. She relaxed, trusting in his unspoken promise of support and protection. He lingered against her skin until knowing their responsibilities tugged him back.

"We should head to the briefing."

…

"You're planning to attack the Cylon Fleet?" Cain asked in surprise. Bill noticed the fevered excitement in her widened brown eyes. A smile even threatened to crack her stony reserve.

"It's a good chance to hit the Cylons where it hurts," Bill confirmed. He noted how Cain exchanged an approving and possibly even mildly conciliatory nod with Laura. In Galactica's War Room, everyone studied the battle plans on the table as Sharon, Lee, and Kara briefed the crowd on their attack plans. The atmosphere became charged as the group anticipated the damage about to be inflicted on their enemy. The officers crammed in the briefing room eyed Cain and Sharon with equal if slightly different levels of apprehension. They shifted around, and the stirred air smelled like military soap and anxiety. The dimmed lights from the planning screens cast their faces in strange shadows, a play between darkness and light. Weren't they always suspended between the two, Bill wondered. His trio of brooding officers continued their briefing although more stone-faced than usual, but Cain's presence evoked many complicated memories.

Sharon displayed Cain's unfocused recon image of the Resurrection ship alongside her own rough sketches. She explained the ship's function and its weaknesses under the judging gazes of the gathered military personnel. Bill watched her shift around, strained under the weight of so much examination, and he saw a girl desperate to prove herself and terrified she'd fail. That was Sharon. He supposed it always had been. Kara and Lee stayed by her, providing the battle's strategic plans.

The officers finished their brief and answered some questions.

"They've been following you?" Cain asked, nodding toward the mapped out Fleet positions.

"Yes. So we're going to turn around and punch 'em. It'll give us some breathing room," Bill said.

"So say we all," Commander Ziegler replied.

Cain studied Sharon and slowly advanced on the Cylon from around the map table in the center of the room. The girl took a step back, and Bill figured Sharon had learned about Cain's infamous treatment of Cylons. He could have sworn she shivered when Cain's gaze narrowed at her. Bill tensed, ready to diffuse whatever bomb was about to go off.

"Why betray your kind?" Cain asked in a soft but dangerous whisper.

"Well, sir, the Cylons were in the wrong. Should someone follow along with orders when they know it's wrong? Besides, I'd never willingly betray my family," Sharon explained and, though her voice was steady, she averted her eyes from Cain's scorching gaze.

Good reply, Bill thought. He watched Cain's reaction to Sharon's answer. He shoulders tensed and her jaw clenched. Somewhere, Cain's conscience flinched at how Sharon's reply hit close to home. Bill found himself reminded of the manipulative abilities of Cylons. Although he remained ready to jump in, Cain kept her cool.

"Fair point. But how could a Cylon even hope to know or understand what family is?" Cain challenged, condescension oozing from her tone. Sharon swallowed nervously and glanced at Bill and then Starbuck before raising her chin with a defiant gleam in her eye.

"I was taught. I learn just like humans do. Experience, sir." Cain tilted her head to consider this. Meanwhile, Bill glanced at Tigh, Commander Tigh, Cylon Final Five Tigh, who held himself tall and proud. He'd arrived without sweating alcohol and instead conducted himself respectably. He'd come a long way after experience smacked him upside the head several times. Saul Tigh—his brother, silica pathways and DNA be damned. Bill trusted and believed in the man so much that an agreement between them existed: should anything happen to him, Saul would look after Laura and his children, just as he would Ellen.

His brow creased as he contemplated his reality. He hated the Cylons but accepted and even loved some of them: Saul, Sharon, Chief, and even Ellen. He remained an atheist who'd met with a god, a non-believer caught in a prophecy, and a realist who'd received miracles. He mentally laughed at himself, thinking of how he called Laura the contradictory one. He pulled himself back to reality, and decided to end the meeting before Cain could take a bite out of Sharon.

"The operation will begin at 0900 tomorrow," he said to a chorus of 'yes sir' and he noted that Cain's voice joined. The officers filed out of the briefing room, taking some time to share gossip and news. It was good to see that a camaraderie had formed between them.

"What do you hear Starbuck?" he asked quietly as Starbuck moved to pass him. She seemed pulled tighter than a drum, but gave her own quiet response.

"Nothin' but the rain."

"Even so, let's keep your gun holstered, at least for today," he said, and her eyes shot up to meet his own. Bill knew she'd received the message; there would be no assasination attempt, for now. She gave him a small smile and nodded.

"Wilco, Admiral."

…

Admiral Helena Cain felt like she'd broken through the surface of the Aegaean Sea after almost drowning in the freezing waters. Each breath came with greater ease and relief when Cain realized that neither she, nor her ship, nor her crew would be subsumed in the tides of a fruitless war. Instead, they celebrated their part in a glorious triumph over a Cylon Fleet, and Cain noted the return of most of her pilots and crew on the other side of the fight.

Two days after the battle, they continued to ride their wave of success. She and a detachment from Pegasus joined the arranged festivities aboard Cloud Nine in their dress uniforms, which had only gathered dust since the Fall. Her crew looked very pleased with themselves and strutted proudly across through the green grass and sweet-smelling flowers. Military personnel from each ship met and slapped each other's backs. The crowd welcomed her crew, a shared battle forging camaraderie between the new group and the old.

Under the blue imitation sky, viper pilots puffed out their chests like preening birds and regaled increasingly unimaginable flight maneuvers to anyone who listened long enough. Members of the Quorum in their embroidered sashes of office heaped praise on senior officers who had the grace to commend their crews. Cain took it all in, her head spun from the top of this pinnacle of success. It felt good. Cain smiled as she observed her appreciated crew. She listened as her aide Kendra Shaw laughed with civilians who peppered the girl with curious questions. She'd never heard Shaw laugh and it gave the unforgiving Admiral pause. Her crew deserved to laugh.

Maybe she'd forgotten the basic rule of surviving a rip tide trying to drag swimmers out to sea: don't try to outstrength a superior force. There's a time to fight and a time to evade. She mulled such thoughts around in her head as the crowds surged toward Cloud Nine's largest ballroom. The ceremonies were scheduled to begin soon.

Cain entered the grand room and walked toward the central dais. It displayed flags representing each of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol around the edge, along with those of each military ship. She judged it just the right amount of pomp and circumstance and joined the other military personnel on the raised platform. They still eyed her warily but greeted her warmly while arranging themselves in an orderly row. Cain stood with her crewmates, one step ahead of them like the other commanding officers. They snapped to attention when Admiral Adama and President Roslin arrived. Laura smiled at them before she approached the podium. Cain listened as she delivered a heartfelt-sounding welcome filled with hope for the future and praise for the men and women of the Fleet. She honored the fallen and commended the survivors. A spark of memory ignited in Cain—she remembered President Adar spouting drivel with a lot more hot air. Cain preferred this; at least Roslin came across as honest.

One by one, the President announced the promotions and commendations of the assembled military personnel. In turn, the commanding officers handed out the shiny new insignias and medals to their crews. The crowds cheered and the excitement seemed contagious. Cain puffed with pride as she presented the new ranks to her officers. She delighted in promoting Shaw to the rank of Major and surprising Marcia "Showboat" Case with a commendation for valor.

Next, she observed how thrilled Adama seemed when he promoted his son to Major and Kara Thrace to Captain. He imparted kind and wise words to each officer he promoted, and it reminded Cain of her father. With each promotion, he had something unique to say and clearly treated each individual much like he had his own son. He treated his crew like beloved sons, and in turn Cain got the feeling they would follow him into the pits of Tartarus. She watched as he came to the last person, a Galen Tyrol. She raised a surprised eyebrow when he received a rare battlefield commission and now ranked as a Captain. Adama shook his hand, and joked that he'd always be the 'Chief,' but now uppity pilots couldn't pull rank on him. After that, the ceremony seemed to come to a natural end, but Roslin asked for Adama to step forward. Everyone held their breath as they waited to see what would happen.

Cain noticed the curious look on Adama's face, and he seemed at a loss for what was going on. Yielding her position at the microphone to Vice President Wally Gray, Roslin walked over to her confused husband. Cain caught a snippet of the conversation.

"Rumor has it, that I still don't know much about military protocol. I did learn that there is more than one kind of Admiral," she said. There was a delighted sparkle in Laura's eyes as she reached into her pocket to retrieve the same style box that held new rank insignias.

"By unanimous vote of the Quorum, and under the authorization of both the Vice President and President, William Adama is hereby promoted to the rank of Fleet Admiral of the Colonial Forces," Vice President Gray announced, and the crowd exploded with excitement.

"Congratulations, Fleet Admiral Adama," Roslin smiled and giggled softly as she handed the highest ranking insignia pips in the Colonial Fleet to Adama who looked at her wide-eyed. Protocol dictated that they exchange salutes, but they shocked everyone (and even themselves it seemed) by exchanging a brief but sweet kiss. It prompted the energized throngs to yell even louder in excitement on behalf of their leaders who stood for hope and love in these dark times. Cain took it all in. Their people believed in their leaders, and she found herself wondering what it would be like to be trusted and followed because she was loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I really appreciated many of the kind words after the last chapter. Thank you :) After a bit of a needed step-back/break, I present you with the next chapter! I hope you enjoyed it!


	58. The Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. Note: this chapter has been planned since I started the fic and is based on an original series episode. Enjoy!

Nestled in the safe haven of her mother's arms, Evelyn Adama settled after a fit full of little kicks and small sniffles. Her scrunched face relaxed and she looked up at her mother with wide, sapphire eyes. 'My eyes,' Bill puffed up with pride, 'and her mother's hair.' Bill grinned and wholeheartedly accepted how another redhead had him wrapped around her little finger. He tried to focus on the information the nurse relayed while Laura and Evie were lost in their own world. Out of the corner of his eye, Bill watched as tiny fingers curled around Laura's pinky. He drank in the golden moment they were told Evie was strong enough to come home, letting it warm his heart. The happy moment was like the god's ambrosia and it would sustain them when things inevitably turned dark again.

Nurse Layne Ishay finished talking and declared Evie released to the full care of her parents. He wrapped an arm around Laura's waist, every inch the proud, protective father holding his family close. Despite already being exhausted after standing a double watch in CIC and anticipating the little sleep Evie would allow them, Bill couldn't stop grinning. For the rest of the evening, Evelyn and Laura were his.

Bill hoped for quiet. Instead, two crewmen burst into sickbay their tangled limbs inches away from colliding with Laura and the baby. Instinctively, he yanked Laura back. The panicked eyes of Racetrack forced Bill to swallow the reprimanding bark telling them to pay attention. The raptor pilot stumbled as she supported the weight of her sweat-soaked ECO and searched for an open bed. As Ishay rushed in to help, Bill frowned. His adrenaline junkie crew almost always had a few knuckleheads in sickbay, but having all beds occupied seemed extreme. Most patients slept and drew little attention.

Cottle trudged out after examining a patient. Concerned, Bill guided Laura to a quiet corner of sickbay. Silently asking her to wait out of the way, she nodded and cradled her infant closer. Nearby crewmen tried to sneak a look at Evie and offered weak but heartfelt congratulations.

Bill marched over to Cottle who examined the readings he'd taken from the patient. "What's going on, Doc?" The responding huff of frustration sounded like a tired old lion's roar to him. Looking around the crowded sickbay, Cottle motioned Bill back to where Laura waited and they moved to join her. Huddled in together in the corner, Bill noted the deepened frown lines on the doctor's perpetually grouchy face. Cottle rubbed a weary hand over his face, but it smoothed away none of his concerned frown.

"Now look, you two: if I knew what was going on, you'd have a report. But I don't so you don't," Cottle snapped. He automatically pulled out his packet of cigarettes, but after glancing at Evelyn, shoved them back in his pocket with a frown. At the idea that something was wrong with his crew, concern prickled up in Bill's mind like a spreading winter frost. He wanted to demand answers.

"We understand. Is there any information you have?" Laura soothed and Bill noticed how the calm, warm cadence of her voice acted like a wind of fresh air on Cottle. He sighed and visibly forced his shoulders to drop and his jaw to unclench. He took a second to unwind.

"It might be a new strand of the flu, but the funny thing is only men are getting sick. It's spread through skin contact. Now, baby Adama here is strong enough to go home, and it'll be one less patient for me. Besides, Ms. Miracle is like a goldfish in a bowl. I have to keep dragging these curious cats away," Cottle explained.

"The Fleet?" Laura asked; the welfare of her people weighed constantly on her heart and mind.

"We're checking in with the medics throughout the Fleet. When we have an idea of what's going on, I'll send Zak along with a report. It could be nothing, though. Okay?"

"A report as soon as you know the details, doctor," Bill ordered. He wanted to know what was happening aboard his ship and worried over his people's health and safety. He realized they needed to get out of the frazzled old lion's hair and let him do his job, so Bill excused them.

The route to the CO's quarters contained officers who attempted to be inconspicuous as they hoped for their glimpse of the child. The warning look on the Old Man's face kept the curious horde at bay, but they dragged Bill's irritation with the Pythian Prophecy to the forefront of his mind. It was a feeling that always lingered in him. He appreciated the support from his crew, but hated feeling his newborn daughter was a sideshow attraction courtesy of a millennia-old prophecy.

He suppressed the groan of irritation when he caught sight of Elosha waiting for them outside their quarters. Hands clasped in front of her, she appeared the serene priestess as her purple robes sparkled with each move she made. The holy woman clashed against Galactica's military corridors like a discordant note that threw off the whole melody. While Laura smiled at her friend, Bill and Elosha eyed each other with calculated glances. It wasn't that Bill didn't like her, he just lacked any confidence in religious leaders.

"I heard the baby was released—I was already aboard and wanted to offer my congratulations in person while dropping these off," Elosha said and showed Laura the old books in the bag slung over her shoulder. Laura nodded and motioned for Elosha to step through the hatch a guard opened.

Inside their quarters, Bill watched Elosha step close and peer down at Evelyn. Laura allowed her friend and confidant close but did not offer to let Elosha hold her. Tucked so close to Laura's chest, the steady beat of her mother's heart had lulled Evie to sleep.

"She's a beauty. You chose a good name," Elosha said. "When are you planning on holding her dedication ceremony?" she asked. Bill went rigid, the change in him from proud, protective father to staunch, obstinate atheist hit him like a flash flood. He set his jaw.

"We aren't."

"But… I don't… she's a gift from the gods to the promised leaders… to you. She represents their promise of hope and life. Surely you mean to offer thanks to the gods for giving you a daughter?" Elosha exclaimed. Her confused eyes fixed on him. She tilted her head like a baffled bird at Bill's flat refusal. Bill realized he must be an equation that didn't quite compute to Elosha: the atheist married to a woman who embodied faith and who fathered a miracle child.

"No." Bill clenched his jaw, biting back his further retort that it was Laura, in fact, who bestowed them with a daughter—with a bit of help from him. Divine intervention remained unproven, even though Evie should have been impossible. Bill remembered the dark shadow in Laura's eye when her doctor told her it was too late to conceive another child after years of trying.

Elosha considered how to convince him. "Everyone deserves to be blessed. Besides, the people expect a ceremony."

"She's our daughter. Not the people's. We'll decide what she needs."

"Because you lack faith?"

"I lack patience with so-called powerful beings who seem to lack any real usefulness," he countered. To himself, he admitted that his experience on Kobol in the Tomb of Athena still unnerved him. If he dwelled on it enough, anger coagulated inside him, thick and choking. A being who, in his mind, flaunted their power and demanded they help fix a mess none of them created could make anyone angry.

Elosha reared back as if readying herself to drag an errant sheep back to her flock. "Eve—"

"What books did you find?" Laura jumped in first. Her wide eyes showed her shock at the negative edge on which the conversation danced.

Elosha shot Bill one last look before turning her full attention to Laura. "These are old religious texts outside of the sacred scrolls. I marked the interesting passages," she explained as she settled the books on the table. There were three heavy tomes with yellowed pages bound in cracked leather. They smelled of old libraries and dust. Despite being religious in nature, the books looked at home amongst Adama's own book collection.

Laura stared at the books, transfixed by the potential answers contained in the words scrawled out by ancient scribes. Bill read the interested expression on her face. She looked at him and her eyes flashed between terror and excited curiosity that her hoped-for information might be here. Bill admitted that clouded answers and shadowed truths remained Laura's sphere of expertise.

He gently lifted Evelyn from her arms, freeing Laura to flip through the weathered pages Elosha presented her. The baby squirmed and scrunched her face at being disturbed, but he shushed her with gentle words and settled her in the crook of his arm. He'd give them space.

Seeking the familiar, Bill paced over to his heavy oak desk with its scattered papers and flipped on the nearby comm unit. He tuned it into the pilots' comms to monitor their training exercises while swaying with the baby. Thus began the reality of juggling his responsibilities as both Admiral and father. He happily held Evie close, his battered heart lightened by her. Together, they listened to Starbuck's comm-garbled voice drill life-saving information into the nuggets. Bill liked observing the training when able, hands-on in watching out over his flock.

He continued to soothe Evie with the deep timbre of his voice and quietly explained everything. "That's just your big sister teaching those nuggets how to fly. See, they're learning how to deal with a missile lock. Now, you gotta keep maneuvering to evade a lock without crashing into any buddies or bogies. Bogies are what we call the bad guys. You can try and jam the targeting systems while dodging a locked on missile. It's a lot of twisting and turning because missiles slow down if they have to adjust their course which is what Kara's teaching 'em," he told the lightly dozing child. He droned on about flying with ease and his voice kept Evie settled. "Your Old Man once tricked a missile into flying into the same Cylon it came from after I let it chase me around and right back into the raider. Got a little singed in the explosion but…" He trailed off when he felt someone watching him. Looking up, Bill caught sight of Laura perched against his desk with her lips quirked up in a bemused smile.

"Already filling her head with tales of Husker, legendary hero of the First Cylon War?" Laura asked with a teasing lilt in her voice.

"She should know her parents' legacy," Bill said and noted that Elosha was gone but her books covered the table. "Might help her cope if she's gonna be a little legend herself." Under his words, a bitter coldness festered, not hidden well enough from Laura's perception. She tilted her head to the ceiling, as if asking her gods for patience, and let out a heavy sigh.

"Subtlety, thy name is Adama," she muttered and, dropping her head, she pinned him in place with a determined look. "What was that little tête-à-tête with Elosha, Bill? Everyone knows you aren't a religious man, but couldn't you be diplomatic?"

"I wanted a quiet night home with you and Evie without getting dragged into any religious crap," he explained, feeling more than justified in his reaction. The way Laura leaned against the edge of his desk and stared over the rim of her glasses mimicked the scolding stance of a school principal, an echo of her teaching past. She commanded enough intimidation to reduce soldiers to sullen students, but Bill Adama just smiled. Afterall, he had just regaled his daughter with tales of a brave but hot-headed Husker.

Laura wasn't impressed. "Bill—"

Still the risk-taking viper jock, he pressed his lips to hers, and it stopped her irritated retorts. He already knew what she'd say, so with Evie cradled in the space between them, he kissed his wife gently but thoroughly. Satisfied that he'd melted away the irritation he'd earned, he pulled back. He nodded toward the table with the opened books. "Wanna to show me what you found?" he asked, knowing that would placate Laura. He could be diplomatic when he wanted. Sure enough, she lit up and pushed off the desk.

"Since Kobol, Elosha's been helping me track down any mention of an orb matching Athena's description in religious texts," Laura explained as they walked to the table. "She's had to barter throughout the Fleet even to find these. Now, most of this isn't helpful, but there is this," Laura said and pulled a book toward them. His throat itched as he swallowed back his discomfort and looked at the pages.

An illustration covered both pages, sketched by a talented hand. Bill examined the detailed rendering of Pythia herself. Surrounded by billowing mist rising from cracks in the ground, the woman raised her hands to the sky. She appeared possessed by a power greater than her mortal form as her blue robes rippled in the wind. The artist portrayed a beautiful woman with lines that showed sensual curves and wild hair. The whole image resonated with an eerie similarity to how Laura appeared on Kobol and the realization weighed like iron in his stomach. What captured Laura's interest was the orb around Pythia's neck. Radiating lines and a glowing aura illustrated the power contained within the artifact. Laura pointed to it.

"See? Pythia had it on Kobol. There's no clear record of what happened to it, but the text mentions how Pythia's relics were taken to the Colonies. It's a similar story with other sacred objects like the Arrow of Apollo. I never found any mention of it in my museums or in any temples," she summarized.

"It's a damn fool's quest," he growled.

"But we know it exists. Look at the page!" she demanded as her finger tapped on the sketch. "Think of the orb that has been in my dreams for years. Sharon confirmed that Cavil used an orb to reset time. Whatever it was in the Tomb of Athena told us to find this thing. Now, the fact is that if we don't find whatever this artifact is, someone or something else will. Imagine what could happen. Think of what could be taken from us if we fail," Laura urged. His heart pounded harder and harder until it ached as she drove her point into him. He looked between Evelyn and Laura and thought of Zak, Liam, Lee, and Kara. He had a lot to lose.

"I don't wanna think about it," he deflected and watched Laura roll her eyes.

"Bill you've gotta face the truth. I know you hate any mention of the Pythian Prophecy. 'The Dying Leader—' you're haunted by those words. It's easier to be angry at a prophecy than blame who really was responsible for my death," she forced him to listen. He wanted to stop her. He didn't want to listen, not to this. But her voice dropped to a deep whisper and pushed the unpleasant truth on him. "Me, Bill. Me. I didn't go to the doctor for years when I should have. If I had, there would have been no need for Hera's cure and no Cavil experiments to undo it. But, I was broken after my whole family died. By the time I had a reason to live again, someone who made me want to embrace life, I was dying. The scriptures didn't kill me. I know it is painful to think about. I do. But this visceral reaction every time you see the scriptures or Elosha or we talk about the orb…" she shook her head. "You know things are different now. I chose life. I chose you. I'm searching through this 'crap' because I'm not going to let something jeopardize everything we have. I want answers."

It was hard to hear, but Laura was right and he knew it. Besides, he ultimately couldn't refuse any weapon that might defend them, even archaic information. In the end, his protectiveness of Laura outweighed dislike of prophecy. He'd help find the orb.

Uncurling one arm from around Evie, Bill reached for his wife and she came to him willingly and without hesitation. Her head fell on his shoulder, her movements filled with a surety and affection that had only ever grown stronger through the years. It comforted him to hold his women close.

"I love you," Laura murmured. "My stubborn Admiral Atheist."

…

Aboard Colonial One the next day, Laura stared at the whiteboard always displayed in her office. It usually displayed the Fleet's current population count but one little member's number remained absent. Carried against her chest in a wrap, Evie remained quietly content. While not the most presidential look she'd ever sported, Laura preferred keeping Evie close and she dared anyone to complain.

She reached for the marker by the board, finally confident enough to add Evie to the count. Born so premature, Laura had feared for her daughter's survival. She'd spent hours wrapped in guilt, no matter how undeserved, while watching her baby lie in an incubator instead of her womb. Maybe if she hadn't worked so hard… But, Evie lived, and, assured at her daughter's release, Laura added her to their count.

"Madame President, here are the names you requested. All of them are reliable. All can be trusted," Tory said from behind her, and Laura heard a file drop onto her desk. She turned in time to catch how Tory scowled. Laura sensed the woman's continued hurt over their earlier confrontation. Tory had tried to pick up Evie without asking and before any rational thought tempered her reaction, Laura pulled her child away and demanded to know what the hell Tory was thinking. She felt a little bad, but no matter how polite, professional, and friendly they acted, Laura remembered how Tory turned on her in the other timeline.

Laura approached her desk and flipped through the file of vetted people who applied to help her with Evelyn. An unpleasant necessity if she planned to remain president. Besides, she wouldn't inflict the headache-inducing Quorum on Evie (although she remained unperturbed at the notion of inflicting Evie on the Quorum—the baby would at least encourage the use of their indoor voices). She flipped over another page and stared. A choking lump formed in her throat as she picked out a familiar name. Forcing the tears back, Laura managed to clear her throat and whisper.

"Maya. Maya will be perfect, Tory. Job's hers if she wants it."

"Quick," Tory replied flatly, probably wondering why she'd thoroughly vetted so many people. "I'll make the arrangements."

Laura settled behind her desk as Tory marched out of the office, the aide's irritation only thinly veiled. Billy dodged out of her trajectory before she crashed into him. Too sweet to do more than shake his head at Tory, he approached Laura with matters that needed attention, such as her upcoming meeting with Vice President Wally Grey. Billy handed Laura the suggested agenda for the upcoming Quorum meeting, so she and Wally could argue over the upcoming topics.

"Can't believe she replaced me."

"No one ever replaced you. And this time no one will ever even need to try." Laura said and watched the tips of Billy's ears redden at her compliment.

"Not if you have anything to say about it," Billy teased, and now Laura blushed as she remembered her slight overreaction the other week. Upon arriving on Colonial One in the morning, she hadn't been able to find Billy anywhere. His last known location had been on Cloud Nine the afternoon before, so thinking of the horrible fate her Chief of Staff once met on that ship, Laura panicked and sent two of her best guards to find him. They'd returned, trying not to smirk, and Billy trailed in behind them with his hair sticking out in every direction. He listened to Laura's pent up 'don't you scare me like this' rant, until the pieces fell into place and she stopped mid-sentence. A missing tie, an embarrassed but satisfied grin on Billy's face, smudged red on his neck—Laura realized why he hadn't come home. She motioned for Billy to get cleaned up, wondering if later Bill would be telling her about how Dualla showed up late for duty.

"Thank the gods for you, Billy," Laura chuckled and looked down at what he'd given her. The usual—topics that needed to be addressed in order to keep the civilian fleet from devolving into a pack of wild dogs playing survival of the fittest. Her trusted aide provided his own notes and ideas on the subjects, and while they didn't always agree, Billy was clearly coming into his own.

"Just doing my best," he said sheepishly. Laura watched his eyes dart down to Evie, who squirmed in her wrap.

"Would you like to take her for a bit?" She liked that he treated Evelyn like the baby she was instead of trying to show off the so-called beacon of hope.

After handing off a bundled up Evie, Laura checked her watch and grabbed a crime report from Fleet Security while waiting for Wally to arrive. She decided they needed to do something about the developing dark underbelly of the Fleet. The last thing the Fleet needed was an emerging criminal world. Frowning, she skipped over the press request on her desk asking for photos of Evelyn. She had accepted the shroud of prophecy and knew it meant she would have to endure such requests, but she'd keep the hungry media horde away from Evie as long as possible.

Muffled footprints against Colonial One's carpet signaled someone's approach. Laura expected to see Wally walking into her office, but found someone else.

"Zak!" she exclaimed, dropping her pen and notes to her desk. Surprised at his presence, she smiled warmly at him, never bothered by a visit from one of the sons she shared with Bill. Down to the same ticks when stressed, Zak physically resembled his father in many ways—a family resemblance Liam grew more into everyday. Zak looked weighed down, like his father did when shouldering too many problems.

"Hey, mom. Can we talk?"

"Of course. Wally might interrupt; he should—"

"Wally's sick. I just came from his ship."

"Oh." Laura frowned and watched Zak; she had a nasty hunch that something was wrong. She remembered seeing the full Galactica sickbay. "Zak, are you here to talk to your mother or the President?"

He sighed and dropped into a chair, the sound of leather creaking under him. He seemed to melt into the chair, and he rubbed a hand over his face. "The President," he admitted, rarely calling the woman who'd raised him since he was eight by her title even when on duty. She didn't ever mind. "We've got a problem, mom."

"It's serious, isn't it?" she asked and noted Billy paying close attention. Despite his exhaustion, Zak clearly presented the facts detailing how the first cases of some new illness had appeared only last night, but now the medical corps was battling breakouts on several ships. It spread quickly, and patients reported sweating, fevers, and muscle aches. Spread through touch, it only infected men, Zak told her, noting that he'd never seen anything quite like it in school.

"Worse still, patients develop what seems to be a progressive amnesia. People are confused as they lose their memory, and we don't have a cure. We're not even close to one. I came to report as soon as I could. There are procedures Cottle and the rest of the medical corps want put in place," Zak sighed.

"I'll put together a press release," Laura said.

"Sure, start there. But Fleet Security is gonna need to enforce quarantines and these safety procedures. We need to shut down inter-fleet traffic… set up triage centers..."

"People will panic, Zak. Do you realize the push-back this could have?"

"Mom!" Laura jumped when Zak slammed a fist down on the armrest. Wide-eyed, she stared at her usually mild-tempered stepson. "This is serious. Now, you've always said our survival is more important than comfort or convenience. I'm telling you, this is necessary. Right now!"

People hated having their freedoms restricted, and they already lived more restricted lives since the attacks. Sill, Laura prided herself on her ability to choose what she believed to be the right choice over the popular choice. What guided her decisions, the star she set her course by, would always be that which gave humanity the best chance of survival. Further, she trusted Cottle and Zak, neither of whom she'd ever known to overreact. In her opinion, Cottle, when not deprived of his cigarettes, might be the most level-headed of them all. So, at her bequest, Zak detailed the suggestions from the Fleet's medics.

"Guess it's time to make an executive decision," Laura said, deciding to bypass a Quorum who would only bicker over each precaution. She gave Zak a reassuring smile before turning her attention to Billy, motioning for him to hand Evie back to her. "Get the head of Fleet Security and Admiral Adama on the line, they need to be caught up first. Notify ship captains to expect a conference call in half an hour, and tell the press to be ready in an hour," she ordered her Chief of Staff who sprang into action.

...

Laura returned to Galactica that evening so tired and exasperated that the next person who complained risked a trip out an airlock. She understood the scared reaction her press release caused in the population. People tended to panic, but for the love of all that remained good and holy, did everyone find it absolutely necessary to resist attempts to save them? Laura wondered if people believed she enjoyed issuing executive orders and the inevitable nails-against-a-chalkboard-like complaining that followed.

She wrapped her arms around the baby tucked in the sling against her, her baby's whimpering little cries demanding food. Evie rubbed against her mother's chest, but Laura's surgery years ago made it a fruitless search. Laura murmured that they were almost home, and she anticipated collapsing into her understanding husband's arms. She wouldn't even need to explain anything to him—thank the gods for small mercies—because she felt too tired to recount how this latest crisis upended her day. He'd probably even feed irritated Evie. Laura trudged through the corridors of Galactica, finding the normally lively corridors eerily empty.

Relief flooded through her the moment she stepped through the hatch and into their quarters. She dropped the Presidency and her shoes right inside the door, needing a few sweet hours as just Laura. She needed no mask here. She rested against the metal bulkhead, her body fatigued and head pounding. Spotting her husband asleep on the couch with reports scattered around him, she smiled as love flowed through her veins. She was bombarded with challenges in their struggle for survival and yet just the sight of him steadied and calmed her.

She sat down on the couch next to him, and carefully gathered reports. She frowned at the waves of heat radiating off of Bill and the sweat she noticed glistening on his brow. Even with his uniform unbuttoned, he seemed like an oven and Laura felt a chill of dread come over her. No, no, no—not him, Laura prayed, reaching up and feeling his fevered forehead.

"Bill?" she asked, gently shaking him awake. He groaned and moved as if every muscle in his body ached. Panic gripped Laura. "Bill!"

"Laura?" he asked, opening drowsy eyes. He frowned and rubbed his head. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you on Caprica?" he asked. He peered curiously at the increasingly restless infant Laura held. "And, who is this?


	59. Someone to Watch Over Me

"I'm having a little difficulty breathing," she'd said; the end had come, but Bill made Laura smile one last time in a Raptor. For the woman who'd rescued them all, Bill showed her the best view of the Earth they'd earned. Now his own breathing struggled and his lungs burned. Each labored breath he took brought him the teasing smell of Caprican roses. Lingering on his pillow when it should have long faded, her smell tormented him. He knew her presence could only be an illusion as his muscles ached from his too-humble burial he'd given the President of the Colonies.

Not only did he sense his lost love, but his beloved Galactica hummed with life around him. He heard his crew echoing in the corridors and smelled his books. A delusion of what he'd lost surrounded him. He shivered in the colder than Earth temperature, the familiar spaceship air, and burrowed in the blankets while content to linger in this dream. Bill listened to the quiet but strong murmur of Laura's voice in the distance only broken by the crackle of a voice on the comm. She was saying something about elections needing to be delayed. No longer faded, she sounded presidential and so, so real.

Then again everything prompted a memory of her: the red of a rising sun invoked images of a red dress and flaming hair. Maybe he'd gone insane after looking into the heart of Earth's sun so many times as it rose above the mountains, but it had reminded him of another now burned out star. But she felt so close now that if this was insanity, he welcomed it.

"Laura?" he croaked, hoping his delusion would come to him and let him touch her. The voices stopped, so he kept his eyes locked closed, refusing to let go of this dream. He moaned her name again and again, wanting to hear her again.

"I'm here, Bill." A hand pressed against his forehead. "Gods, you're burning up again. I'll be right back," Laura's voice murmured, and the hand against him started to slip away. With a speed he didn't realize his body still possessed, he grabbed the very real-feeling woman.

"Don't. Don't go. Not again," he sounded desperate, but it barely registered to his exhausted body and soul.

"It's alright. I'm not leaving. I just need to get you—"

"You did though!" he argued, feeling pained tears escape his tightly shut eyes. He wanted to avoid such displayed emotion, but it escaped through the cracks in his weakened armor. Waves of heat coursed through his blood but he shivered with cold, sweat tingling against his skin. Everything ached.

"Bill, open your eyes and look at me," his phantom ordered gently. "Come on. Trust me," she soothed as her hand gripped his back. She linked their fingers together while letting him dig his fingers into her warm flesh until he found the pulse in her veins. Opening his eyes, he found himself in his old rack and looking up into Laura's concerned face. A pained breath left him as he clutched the captured hand tighter, while his free hand reached up and touched the red curls falling around Laura as she bent over him. His fingers moved to trace her face.

"Can't be…"

"I'm right here. You're very sick right now and having trouble remembering."

He felt awful, drained of energy and strength, but he knew what he'd seen. "No, I remember. The cancer. You stopped treatments and I watched you..." his jaw clenched and he refused to say any more.

"Oh, Bill. You did, and I'm so, so sorry you endured that. If I thought the treatments would have truly worked, I'd have continued for you. I chose quality over quantity, and met death on my terms. We got time back though, remember? Picon? The park? Maybe the temple? Sometimes memories come back if you can focus on specific details," she said, and Bill's fevered mind tried to make sense of her words. His senses were flooded with Galactica and Laura, and he clung to both. Something prompted him to feel along her captured hand, and he found the ring on her finger. Pulling it into his line of vision, the yellow gold glinted in the light of his quarters.

"I put my ring on your finger in the Raptor," he frowned as he focused on the band. An image flashed in his mind of Laura showing it to him in a hotel room, the band in the palm of her hand. "Then you had it on Picon." Looking at their clasped hands, he noticed the different ring he wore with two lines intertwining with each other. 'Two lives lived. Two lives now intertwined.' His fever-addled mind knew the truth even if he couldn't quite recall the details. "You're my wife?"

"I am," she smiled. "You're sick right now and it's hard to remember things." She explained how they'd awoken seventeen years ago with memories of a future they'd experienced. It angered him to hear that despite their best efforts, the attacks happened anyway. He listened to her explain about the disease going through the Fleet, attacking the body along with the memory centers of the brain. His first reaction was to urge Laura to stay back, the instinct to protect her even present in his sick state. She shook her head and explained the nature of the disease and how it only infected men. He finally let go of her so she could get a cool washcloth for his head and some water while he tried to process what she'd told him. He had her back.

"So, the Valkyries are running the Fleet?" Bill asked, after she helped him take a drink.

"Seems a fitting image with Admiral Cain in charge of the military at the moment." He groaned at the thought of Admiral Cain's return, but didn't try to figure out why he knew he outranked her.

"Laura—" Bill looked at her with a surprising intensity in his state. "—no cancer right? No pale doctor on the day of the attacks?" When she hesitated, he tried to prepare his mind. All this has happened before, so why the frak shouldn't it happen again? He tried to ignore the way his chest clenched as he waited for her to speak.

"There is no cancer. You don't remember, but I had surgery years ago to prevent it, and you get pretty… intense about making sure I get checked regularly," he felt the tension seep from his muscles in relief. "But, there was a pale doctor, and he did discover something unexpected." Standing from how she'd been leaning on the rack, she stepped to the side and reached down. When she returned, there was a child cradled in her hands.

"This is our daughter, Evelyn. She's only two months old, but has you wrapped around her finger."

His pained heart thundered as his once-impossible dream materialized in front of him. They'd had a lifetime together. They'd lived his once heart-wrenchingly impossible vision of what a life might have been like if they'd only met sooner. For a brief moment, he saw a warm home and another child with Laura's eyes laughing with his brothers. He wept. His body trembled with the combined weight of joy and grief. If only he could remember it all.

...

Starbuck, ace pilot extraordinaire, bane of the Cylons' existence, Harbinger of Death to her enemies, and cocky she-devil to her friends, needed a damn hug. She signed up for combat, not command, but the line officers were knocked on their butts by a bug. After Admiral Adama became infected, his XO Major Kelly fell sick. The virus got to their CAG Lee Adama before he could take command. Gaeta led CIC for a day, which Kara later learned spooked the Admiral who thought he'd executed the mutineers. After Gaeta fell, Captain Kara Thrace assumed leadership of Galactica—a clear sign of the desperate and strained military ranks.

After her shift, she trudged toward the CO's quarters and upon arriving promptly collapsed on the couch. Their door remained open to her and she figured the latest crisis earned a few undignified private moments to wallow in indulgent self-pity.

Kara expected that the President, who sounded ready to beat someone over the head with a medkit during the last ship captains' meeting, would be home soon. Kara attended the meeting on behalf of Galactica and was treated to a display of whining. She respected the President's restraint when the captains weren't locked in a little cage until they could quit their infantile antics. Kara frowned—she shouldn't insult baby Evie by comparing their shenanigans to infant behavior. Evie behaved so much better.

Kara took a deep breath and counted to ten before letting herself into the CO's now unguarded quarters.

Throughout the Fleet, in thanks for their service, the Medical Corps' regulations for safety earned protests on several ships. After the crap she'd seen in two lifetimes now, Kara suspected humans secretly liked being provoked because it gave them something to complain about. Well, godsdammit, they should listen to her list of things to moan about. How she, Lee, the Admiral, and the President weren't in padded cells from extreme PTSD, she didn't know.

Neither of the infected Adamas could remember this new timeline. She and Laura swapped stories of their 'yeah, I'm not dead anymore' conversations. After talking with Lee, he clutched Kara so close that she almost needed a crowbar to pry him off before reporting for duty. Yet this morning, her fiancé pushed her away and demanded to know what the frak she was thinking by sleeping with him. Then he asked where his wife was.

The pillow and blanket beside the couch betrayed Laura's own troubled sleeping arrangement with a partner who couldn't remember being together. Sometimes Kara skipped in-depth explanations and just told Lee that Cottle ordered him to remain in bed to recover from a nasty bout of the flu. She suspected Laura did something similar. Sleep provided an escape from trying to reconcile two timelines crammed in their heads, fading memories, and their current reality. At the moment, the senior-most Adama snored and kept at it while the hatch opened and admitted the weary President home. Liam slipped in behind her, the teenager kept in his mother's protective shadow. He wore gloves like all the men in the Fleet now did, most of them sane enough to cover up much of their skin to prevent accidental skin-to-skin transmission of the disease.

"Kara!" Liam grinned while Laura nodded a tired greeting and walked to the desk to sort reports.

"Listen kid, I'm trying to be miserable here," Kara grumbled in response to Liam's sunny optimistic soul as he plopped down next to her.

"Awww. Hard day being Galactica's new imperious leader? Can't strike obedience and fear into CIC like Tigh used to?" he teased, and Kara smacked him with the nearby pillow. She thanked whatever luck graced Liam that kept him uninfected.

"Not enough people to scare," Kara retorted, smiling for a moment at Liam before her face fell again. "More pilots sick and not enough nuggets to train."

Liam seemed determined to lighten the mood and he leaned over conspiratorially. "Wanna give me a commission? You know I'd fly circles around the other recruits," he whispered quietly enough that his mother wouldn't hear. "Besides, the new nuggets are all women."

"That's a hard no, even if I see the appeal. But when you join you'd better be top of the class. I've been teaching you and indulging you in the sims since you were big enough to reach the controls." Kara whispered back, hoping their airlocking, trigger-happy President didn't catch wind of this conversation.

"Liam," a voice said and Kara cringed. Laura stood nearby with her hands on her hips, and she'd definitely heard. "Why don't you go study in your room for a bit, please?" Watching Liam nod and obey, after throwing the pillow back at her, Kara noted Roslin's ability to conceal orders in kind-sounding suggestions. Meanwhile, Laura sat down on the couch next to her, massaging the headache she undoubtedly acquired from another long day of trying to keep them alive. "I know the day is coming soon, but he's still so idealistic and naive. He can't understand why more people don't just work together."

"He's like Lee," Kara said. She knew she was acting like a cowering chicken afraid to go back home and deal with whatever situation she'd find there. Hiding felt preferable. Drinking would be good. As soon as she received permission, she stood, poured herself a generous drink, and downed it. She just wanted to fly her bird, not feel pulled down by a weight on her heart. "Starboard hangar bay is now a field hospital, but we might need a temporary morgue if this gets worse."

"Same across the Fleet."

"We lost Prosna and Crashdown today," Kara said and suddenly gave a bark of bitter laughter. "They lasted longer than they did in the last timeline. Too bad we only bought them a little more misery."

"That's not what's gonna happen to the Fleet. Or to you and Lee."

"Pegasus CAG died today too."

"I know. Cain is a heartbeat away from declaring martial law to keep people quarantined."

"Let her!" Kara snapped and paced in front of the couch where Laura sat. Let the Admiral make people listen and obey. She was sick of seeing her friends, her loved ones, die. She was so, so sick of it.

"Solve a problem today and create one for tomorrow?"

Kara snorted. "Guess we know where Liam gets his optimism. Every day new people are getting sick and now you're taking numbers off that board of yours, but you can still think about tomorrow!"

"Kara, I have to."

Their arguing had a dull exhaustion to it. They'd been over the same bitterness before. Kara found the sneer in her voice ebbing away like an evening tide.

"I know," she admitted and sat back down on the couch, holding her head in her hands.

They sat there like that, unsure of how much time passed but too exhausted to move until they heard a noise in the more private section of the Adama's quarters. The sound of shuffling feet and a groan notified them that the Admiral was now very much awake. Laura immediately moved to check on her husband, even though he no longer remembered being so. Kara swirled the liquor in her second glass, trying to find the energy to go to her own quarters and listened to Laura question what Bill was doing.

"I, uhmm, I thought of a book to bring during your next treatment."

"That sounds nice, Bill."

"Searider Falcon. It's my favorite. I think you'd like it."

Kara heard Laura's voice crack when she replied and decided it was time to go back to Lee, come what may.

"Mine too."

…

The disease made him feel weighed down and sluggish, but Bill Adama refused to be helpless. He again recited the facts he knew: one, he was very sick; two, they'd gone back in time; three, he had amnesia; and four, he'd married Laura Roslin. His mind handled these four facts, so he repeated them throughout the day. Despite feeling like he'd gone several rounds in the boxing ring with Chief Tyrol, he needed to move and he eased out of the rack. After noticing the date, Bill stood at the chest of drawers in his quarters where he kept personal items. It was his old anniversary, and he opened a drawer in search of a familiar photo.

His familiar wedding photo was gone, replaced by a stack of photos similar to those he'd discovered displayed around the cabin. Shuffling through the photos distracted him from the throbbing aches in his muscles, so he continued. He found shore leave photos from family trips to the Glittering Caves of Leonis, the Cloudshape Falls of Caprica, and Serenity Valley of Tauron—places he'd always wanted to see. He looked at a captured moment by a lake with him and the President—him and Laura—wearing water-soaked clothes with Zak and another boy laughing beside them. They all looked happy. He saw himself in many of these photos smiling widely, so unlike the family photos in his memory. His heart skipped a beat when he realized he'd learned to make time for the family he loved.

He stopped at a photo of Zak's high school graduation and studied the smiling young man. In the previous timeline, he'd been so removed from their lives that he lacked photos of his boys as teenagers, but these photos hinted at a better life. He found one of Lee's promotion to Captain, an event he'd once avoided. By then, they couldn't be in the same room without exploding, both pained and angry at Zak's death. Yet there stood Zak along with Laura and a young boy while Bill pinned the rank pips on Lee. For a moment, he thought he caught a memory flash of another promotion.

Shaking his head, he continued working through the stack of photos but found it strange that he'd lived a life he knew very little about. He lingered on an image of Laura in a hospital bed with a Bill Adama from his later viper jock days standing beside her, both focused on the newborn she held. His stomach flipped at knowing he fathered a child with Laura, but some visceral part of him hated seeing her connected to life sign monitors.

The discovery of an envelope hidden at the bottom of the photos left him intrigued. Laura's elegant handwriting filled the front and he read her message, "You know I love both a challenge and getting a rise out of you. Happy birthday, my love. Even though we are apart, know that I am thinking of you. Your Laura."

A huffing laugh turned into a series of coughs as he thought of the many times the woman provoked him. Trying to ignore the burning in his lungs, he thought about what remained constant. This Laura sounded like the woman in her bright red dress that he'd found on New Caprica, all teasing, playful, and affectionate. He still remembered the shared night under the stars and the tender words betraying his deepening emotions that he left unsaid though at the tip of his tongue. He traced a finger over the words, wishing he knew how they'd come together.

'We have certain responsibilities,' he told her and to him it only seemed like hours ago. He wondered how they managed to be effective leaders while being so close. Didn't it make them emotionally compromised? Wasn't he, even now? His curiosity too piqued to resist, he opened the envelope and pulled out the separate set of photos. He nearly dropped them.

Damn.

Despite the fevered cold in his body, he went completely still and stared at the photos in his hand. Flipping to the next, his throat ran dry and he realized he was a damn lucky bastard. He took in the set of intimate images of an undeniably beautiful and incredibly sensual Laura. He ran through his facts again, repeating number four. This is my wife, he marveled, stunned at the photos. Each one proved more erotic than the next. His eyes followed the curve of her body, partly bathed in shadows to tantalize the imagination—the photos didn't need to be explicit to be the most attractive and evocative sight he'd ever seen. Her long legs that had caught his attention during their first meeting were captured in their endless glory for his eyes only. His heart thundered in his chest as his gaze wandered over the chestnut hair falling down over pale shoulders, leaving only the outline of full breasts visible and deepening the cleft between them.

She was beautiful; as flawed as any human being, and he knew that, but Bill sensed he'd found perfection among humanity. These images took love and trust, but also hinted at how they'd overcome the separations within a military marriage. Under the images he saw the truth; this was a loving and kind-hearted woman committed to him and accepting of him. He'd never had that.

'I just don't think she ever loved you,' Lee told him, voicing a bitter truth about his ex-wife that Bill hadn't ever wanted to admit. Some jilted part of him must have known though. Not wanting to live through the hurt again, he didn't remember being with anyone since his ex-wife. Bill Adama, behind the Admiral's facade, was a sensual and passionate man whose first wife was only concerned with her own gratification and not at all interested in his. When they discovered she was pregnant, Bill convinced himself that her selfishness and mood swings would pass, and did what he considered the honorable thing and married her. He was a fool in love, but as their marriage wore on, they fought constantly and whatever intimacy existed between them evaporated. Carolanne finally made it clear she no longer wanted his touch and she displayed her faded interest in him by sleeping with their neighbor. Carolanne would never have given him such images, but the Laura in these pictures teased a different kind of marriage where his love and desires remained welcome. He lacked the specific memories, but some part of him instinctively knew Laura welcomed his touch. Feeling a bolt of anger shoot through him, he wanted to rip his faded memories back from the disease. Yet, they didn't seem close to a cure.

So lost in the images, he didn't notice the hatch open.

"You must be feeling a bit better," Laura said, sounding tired but pleased. Bill on the other hand fumbled to push the photos back in the envelope like a kid caught with his hand in the candy dish. Too slow, Laura caught sight of his discovery and blushed.

"I didn't go looking for these. I used to keep my wedding photo here," he said, and he noticed her blink tears out of her eyes so quickly he almost doubted they were there. "My old one. I know we're married," he added, knowing this couldn't be easy for her. A throbbing headache dulled his mind, and he blamed the disease for his lack of tact. Putting the photos away, he shoved the drawer closed and met Laura's patient gaze.

"I don't mind you looking at the photos. They were willingly given, and you… appreciated them."

"It feels like they belong to a different man," Bill replied, angry at his mind for keeping his memories from him. The whole world felt upside down. He breathed through his anger, cursing the pain in his lungs which reminded him of the disease taking him from her.

"They belong to my husband," Laura said sharply before wearily sinking into the nearby couch. Her tone became a gentle murmur. "They belong to you, and it'll come back to you. Until then, well, I've always known I'm not your first wife, and, I… I understand."

Feeling exhaustion creeping up on him, he moved to sit next to Laura on the couch, bone tired, frustrated, and somehow both hot and cold at the same time. He touched the necklace she wore, the obsidian warm against his finger from resting on her skin. "I never considered giving this symbol to Carolanne. But it feels right for you to wear it. It just seems like only hours ago Lee came to my quarters and we talked about my divorce and about her. There were things I never knew..." he trailed off, thinking about how his children deserved better. After a moment, Laura's gentle voice began painting a picture of their lives. Her quiet words, though tinged with sadness, told him about how they'd assumed custody of Lee and Zak, protecting them from an abusive mother while giving them a good childhood. He tried to picture the Bill she described who'd come home and was there for his family—it matched the photos he'd found but not who he saw in the mirror.

"You're a good father, Bill," she finished with a small smile, her assurance a balm to his battered soul. But that wasn't his only regret, and he suddenly needed to know more. It felt like his life was slipping away from him, and he wanted to ask a thousand questions. He settled for the most important.

"Have I been a good husband? Made you happy?"

Had he done the best he could have, he wanted to know, because he thought it likely time was running out for him. The question clearly surprised her, but she smiled, a genuine warmth suffusing the air around her. He watched another tear escape, but she looked him in the eye and replied with a heart-wrenching sincerity, "Yes. Very much."

He believed her.

"Can I ask another question?" he asked and Laura nodded. "What happens if I don't remember?"

"You will." Laura looked so sad, and he sensed she longed for her husband, the contradiction of having him there but not fully a hard reality in which to live. He understood, because he felt like a shell of who he should be.

"You've talked to me about miracles before and I didn't believe. But by some absurd event, I got a second chance, long enough to have a better life. And now I'm fading."

"Don't talk that way."

"Madame President— Laura, you need to face this," Bill pushed as he felt the disease already draining the waning energy he'd found to stand. She needed to have a plan, to think of the fleet and her responsibilities. Not him. This was the danger of the Admiral and the President becoming too close. "My life might be coming to an end soon enough. You've gotta think about who you'll trust with the fate of this Fleet."

"No one's going anywhere!"

Bill lowered his voice, steadied it. "Okay, I know you want to believe I'll get better, that I'll remember. You'd rather be wrong than face the truth—"

"You might know you're my husband, but get out of my head," she growled as her body visibly trembled.

"You're afraid to be alone. You—"

"Stop," Laura pleaded, her throat constricting too much to let out much sound. She stood up without warning, and took an unsteady breath. "I… I need to go see Maya and pick up Evie," she said, before practically bolting for the door as more tears shone in her eyes.

Too weary to stand as she left, Bill sat alone. His body ached and he couldn't seem to stop shaking, so he pulled the robe tight around him. Sleep crept closer as he tried to remember his facts, but could only think of how much he wanted to get better. Before he drifted to sleep he wondered if they'd ever talked about that night on New Caprica.

…

The sheen of tears dimmed her eyes although none escaped. She'd cried in front of her husband before; they'd wept together in both joy and sorrow more than a few times. Now she felt like weeping as she watched her husband slip away while she tried to keep the Fleet together, but while she didn't recoil from such an honest expression with her partner, she refused to do so in public. Instead, she decided to channel her raging emotions instead of breaking. Breaking wasn't an option.

Gods, Laura wanted to cry, wanted to press her body into his. If she did, her husband would sense her need, pull her even closer to him, and press comforting kisses along her forehead and against her temple. The man in their quarters wouldn't hold her like that. She choked back a sob from her throat, her sadness and desperation visceral and demanding. She would not cry, so instead a brutal, crushing drive to do something ignited in her. She gathered her strength, the iron determination she'd forged as her weapon of choice, and clung to the idea that there was something they could do, a cure to be found.

Laura blazed through the corridors of Galactica, a woman on a mission. Her heels clicked against the metal, announcing her presence as the sound of each click echoed against the wall. The more weighed down she felt by the latest crisis, the straighter she pulled her spine and the higher she held her chin. Death, mutinies, Cylons, Zarek, and half a million other things failed to tear the man she loved from her. This wouldn't either. She refused to entertain the idea that a bug had such power. Bill Adama, in her opinion, should be stronger than a microscopic enemy. He was Zeus incarnate. But if he epitomized Zeus, she was his Hera—a woman once felled by her body's betrayal.

At least her cancer had left her mind alone.

As she died in the other timeline, Laura pulled the memories of her loved ones close. It comforted her. Bill only recalled another woman and a sadder life. To see pieces of such a powerful man fade day by day gutted her to the core. Laura missed her husband. She longed to see the love in his eyes and feel the warmth of his embrace. By the gods, she hated seeing him in pain.

Whenever her family faced any danger, the fighter in her took hold and she felt like she could endure a thousand doloxan treatments, relive the jails of New Caprica, face Tom Zarek again. She imagined no price too high on bringing Bill back to her, to their newborn daughter, so she strode up to a hatch and pushed it open. A little thing like dealing with a slimy devil bothered Laura Roslin approximately not at all.

"Doctor Baltar," she said, and despite the deepening desperation pulling at her, she stood poised just inside the scientist's lab. Hands clasped in front of her, shoulders squared back, and eyes focused on her target, Laura struck an imposing image. "Is there anything you can do?"

Baltar fumbled at the unexpected intrusion. He knocked over several test tubes, sending them crashing to the floor, but the breaking glass didn't crack Laura's calm. "I've achieved some success in analyzing the nucleic molecule of the virus. Its not like any other infectious agent recorded in human history. The amnesia aspect alone is highly unusual—"

"People are dying. Are you close to a cure or not?" Laura interrupted Baltar's typical rambling response. She wanted the truth, not Baltar's attempts to use his intellect to blather on in an attempt to showcase his usefulness. There wasn't time.

Baltar bowed his head. "Not yet."

"You must have discovered something that can at least slow it down; you are a genius," she pushed in a low voice of deadly. Laura twisted her fingers further together and took a long pause to keep herself composed. Baltar shifted nervously, as if sensing the frayed thread by which the President maintained control. Laura noticed and decided that a healthy dose of fear in Baltar remained a good thing to maintain. While others also worked on a cure for the disease, even Laura dared not interrupt Cottle's work right now and taking a bite out of Baltar had its appeal.

"I'd tell you if there was, Madame President," he promised as his eyes flicked toward the corner of the room several times.

"Would you?" she asked.

"As you pointed out, I am a genius. Don't you think I am fully aware that if I so much as even breathe the wrong way I might as well walk myself to the nearest airlock and experience death by exposure?" Baltar paused, as if weighing how much he enjoyed the experience of breathing air. "Really, it's been a threat for so long and I've lived it in so many of my nightmares that it's practically become boring. Find some original material and leave me to work on saving the patients."

She tilted her chin up imperiously,"you sure you're a genius?"

"I saved your flipping life!"

Hiding her distress at the lack of any progress on a cure, Laura approached him, a cat stalking its prey. When she stood close enough to hear his breath quicken, she replied levelly, "Hera saved my life."

"Hera did save your life, but it was with my help and when no one else could. But it's obvious you'd rather leave that part out," Baltar replied. He froze and then dove for a piece of paper and scribbled some notes on it.

"You saved the Cylon's child. Saving me was a means to that end."

"It's my lot in life to be damned if I do and damned if I don't," Baltar said as he bent over his work.

Laura refused to dignify that with response. She studied him for a moment before she turned to leave with a shake of her head and a disgusted sigh.

"Chief and, uhm, Tigh… they're not, sick are they?" Baltar asked as she reached the hatch.

"No." Laura glanced over her shoulder as Baltar darted around the lab, grabbing petri dishes and eye droppers. His face flushed with excitement as he muttered half sentences about Cylons, infections, and blood. He looked up at Laura with a glint in his eyes.

"How's the Admiral?"

Her jaw clenched, but she refused to think of Bill's time being on a countdown. "He's stronger today."

"There's time. Sharon is still under house arrest with Helo. I need your authorization to get a sample of Hera's blood. And I want a sample from Chief and Tigh. And your husband. Yes, yes… Oh, I have experiments to run." He said and finally looked up from his calculations. "And yes, my well-honed sense of self-preservation would force me to hand over any possible cure immediately."

"Cure?" Laura turned from the hatch to face him.

"Hera's blood has restorative abilities. She is the key to a cure."

…

She took a deep, full breath and recycled air filled her lungs with its vaguely metallic smell and taste. She held it in, and her racing heart slowed to less frenzied pace. She embodied control better than most. Releasing the breath, she shoved the hatch open with one hand while her other juggled Evie and her bag.

Inside, Bill Adama remained on the couch, but he slept now. Smiling sadly at him, she turned her thoughts away from wondering how many memories he'd lose while unconscious. Dwelling on it wouldn't fix anything. Instead, she dropped her bag and went to Liam's makeshift room, still holding Evie.

Flopped down on his back, her youngest son stared at the ceiling with his dark brown hair a disheveled mess and his cheeks flushed red. Motherly concern flooded her mind, and Laura's hand shot out to feel his forehead checking for the tell-tale fever of someone infected.

"How are you feeling?"

"I feel fine. I promise," he tiredly shook her hand off. "Haven't touched anyone who's sick, even with the gloves on," he said, reciting the rule she'd drilled into him and the rest of the Fleet. Some of her tension eased, and Laura watched his eyes focus on Evelyn. He sat up before reaching for his baby sister. She smiled. Liam liked not being the baby of the family anymore and he adored his sister. But as she handed Evelyn to him, Laura heard his muffled sniffle. Her heart went out to her son as she watched him snuggle Evie close.

She sat on the bed next to him. "Liam, sweetheart, what happened?" she asked, scooting closer and resting a comforting hand on his back. She felt him tremble; it seemed she wasn't the only one in need of a good cry.

"I miss dad." His despondent tone hit her like a sharp pain in her chest. If only she could take his worries away.

"He's gonna get better, don't worry," she assured.

"Yeah. But he still might not get his memories of us back," Liam said and he sniffed again. "Me or Evie."

Laura rubbed soothing circles on his back as he tucked in the blankets around Evie. She knew what it was like to watch a beloved parent get sicker and sicker after watching Judith Rolsin's cancer battle. She tried to remember if there was anything someone told her during that time that genuinely made her feel better, something she could offer her son. She racked her brain for anything to offer Liam.

"No one's ever really ready to watch something like this happen and not be able to do anything about it. Did you know, in the other timeline, I had cancer like your grandmother? Near what seemed like the end, I met with your father and promoted him to Admiral and we talked a bit." She quietly recounted the story with a wistful smile on her face. Liam listened, enrapt, as he learned more about the sometimes taboo subject of the other timeline and the beginning of his parent's relationship. "We agreed: 'never give up hope'. That day was our first kiss, and it turns out, the cure the doctor used back then is one that might help your father right now."

"So, never give up hope," Liam repeated, nodding slowly. "But, what if he gets better and he doesn't remember you either?" More platitudes and assurances of Bill's recovery rolled through her mind, but Laura remembered her mother being sick. She had needed the doctors to stop coddling her and tell her the damn truth.

"This is hard, isn't it?" she sighed. "For almost twenty years I've loved your father. I vowed to stand by him in sickness and health. For me, even if he doesn't remember, those vows still mean something and I'll do my best to honor them."

"It's like Dad's a different person. Just like Lee."

Laura sensed another layer to his hurt. "Did something happen with Lee?"

Liam sighed. "Zak and I went to see how Kara and Lee were doing, I wanted to see if I could do anything to help and Zak had a medical check-in with Lee. But I got to their quarters and..." Liam frowned. A tear finally escaped and his voice broke. "We could hear them in the corridor. Lee was yelling and yelling. He was so angry about being on Galactica because it's dad's ship. When we went inside, Lee had just started ranting about how it was dad's fault Zak died. I've never heard Lee sound so hateful. Kara ordered me to go."

Laura opted for honesty, not ever wanting to be caught in a lie with her son. "Zak died in a viper accident. After he died, Lee and your father went through a very rough patch. Loss does strange things to a person. But it also teaches us about what's important. This time we kept Zak safe. Your brother is fine. And your father and Lee took to heart what they learned. We all did."

Liam considered her words. "Can you tell me a story about the other timeline? One that does't suck?"

Laura felt exhausted and wrung out, but she could indulge her son. "Would you like to hear the story of when we all thought Ellen Tigh was a Cylon and then I thought your father might be a Cylon? Or when we ate food made from algae, which led to the biggest game of 'what food do you miss most from the colonies'? For the record, coffee made from algae tastes awful." She smiled when Liam grimaced, her son at least a little distracted and reassured there were some good times from their other life. "No. I know. You know how we have elections coming up? So, in the other timeline, your father let me use his quarters to prepare for debates. He told me about your grandfather Joseph's pencil-breaking habit."

"Break preconceptions," Liam knew from the few stories gleaned about his paternal grandfather.

"So I broke my pencil. And your father noted that I was pretty screwed if the moderator didn't have a backup. Out of nowhere, I started laughing. Harder than I had in years. All the way to the debate I had the giggles. I think it confused your father so much he started laughing as well. He stayed in the back of the wardroom during the debate, but every time I looked up and caught his eye, I nearly burst out laughing in the middle of the debate. He wasn't any better. There are some good times I don't want to forget."

There was hope. A flickering flame against the wind, but she guarded it against any cold wind that tried to extinguish it from her. Never give up hope, even if everything hurt like hell.

...

After Liam was soothed and asleep, after Bill was moved to his rack while asking about what she planned to do on New Caprica before he again drifted off, after Evelyn was fed and put in her cradle, and after Zak was finished checking in on his father, Laura sat alone and cried a silent river of tears. It didn't seem fair, the endless stream of trials they were made to suffer. And to think, after this crisis, humanity still needed saving, an orb still needed finding, and her family still needed time to recover.

So tonight Laura shed the tears she'd earned. Tomorrow, President Roslin planned on facing each challenge head on.

Collapsed on the couch, Laura knew she needed to rest. Sitting there, her eyes focused on a charred book her husband had pulled out. When Saul Tigh arrived later she hadn't moved. He explained that Zak had given him an update from his visit earlier that evening. Tigh handed her a sleeping pill and relayed Zak's doctorly orders for her to get some needed sleep before she collapsed. Laura finally looked up at Tigh and they shared sad, tired expressions. Looking at the pill, she hesitated. He then promised to watch over her, Bill, and Evie while she slept.

He could afford to be away for a few hours. He assured her that Prometheus remained in the good hands of his XO, a grease monkey from the engine room, and Tigh tried to joke about yet another opinionated woman giving him a headache like his Ellen. Besides, with the Fleet hiding from the Cylons in a nebula, there were fewer threats for the strained military to manage, though the corrosive gasses promised another set of problems for President Roslin to deal with in the future.

Tigh bustled about the quarters but tried to keep quiet, like a bull tiptoeing around a china shop. He pressed a glass of water into her hand and practically forced her to take the medication. As he promised long ago, if anything happened to Bill, Saul Tigh had come to help Laura and the children.

All her bones ached at once when she laid down, but sleep came quickly.

…

Soreness consumed Bill. His sheets were soaked with sweat and his skin felt clammy. Sharp pain laced through his head and he groaned as Tigh helped prop him up. Every movement caused some muscle or bone to ache, but he focused on the briefing Tigh gave to him.

There were truths he knew and recited: one, he was very sick; two, he was suffering amnesia; three, Roslin was… manipulative? A traitor? His own personal siren designed to torment him?

He grunted out a few questions about the situation in which he found himself. Tigh's heavily edited answers made the Fleet sound like it was in its usually perilously stable state, and Bill wondered what latest crisis threatened them. He accepted that Tigh omitted details so his dazed mind could understand. He labored for a breath and decided he was pissed at being sick.

Tigh moved to get a chair, wincing when it grated and scraped against the uncarpeted part of the floor. He shot a look to the couch and Bill followed Saul's concerned gaze. His insides clenched and his hands formed into fists.

Bill looked at Laura asleep on his couch, laying on her side and curled in a ball with dark red hair fanned over the pillow. The blanket that laid across her lower body didn't hide his old Vigilante Viper Squadron sweatshirt she wore to sleep. The intimate gesture jarred him.

"Why isn't she in the brig?!" he demanded in a rough voice. Even though he was sick, he could feel the edge in his words, the boiling anger ready to burst.

"Because she broke out and you decided not to put her back." Seemingly satisfied he hadn't woken her, Saul settled on the chair by Bill's side.

"Why the frak not? She's dangerous. A damn, out-of-control, religious fanatic!"

Bill glowered when Tigh looked like he might be trying not to laugh. "Yes, she is. We keep that in mind. Now what is the last thing you think you remember?"

He remembered the cell door closing in her face and how she refused to flinch. She'd twisted Kara and then Lee into doing her bidding and the people he cared about most turned against him. He'd started thinking of her as a friend even if he hadn't liked her at first. Her guts and tenacity impressed him and he started to believe her to be the President. He thought he knew her, or was coming to, and she pulled the mat right out from under him. In the end, it cost too much energy to rant, so he kept it simple. "She betrayed me. Broke her word."

"Trust me, Bill. That seems like a lifetime ago. There's a lot… a lot you're missing."

He tried to consider this, but his head felt heavy and he wanted to retreat into the wallowing blackness of sleep again. "I really feel awful," he complained and Tigh nodded.

"You're really sick. Bug's done a number on you."

"Why is she here?"

"She lives with you."

Bill frowned. There's another fact he needed to remember. He remembered her becoming a friend, but that wasn't the word for her. Several alternatives came to mind after her little stunt with Kara and the Raider, but instinct prompted him to look down at his finger and he saw an unrecognizable wedding band on his hand. The scratched surface caught bits of light and signified being well-worn. Wife.

In his tired opinion, the only idea more incomprehensible than marrying her was her having agreed to marry him. What's her angle? He guessed at a marriage of convenience, something to provide stability. Maybe marrying her was a reasonably painless prisoner exchange to make sure the Fleet remained united.

Another loveless marriage, he assumed. They probably led separate lives and slept far, far apart.

"But..." Bill began, then struggled for more words.

"You love that woman, Bill," Saul answered, as if sensing his racing thoughts. Bill pushed the blankets off of himself, gruffly ordering Tigh to help him stand. His best friend hesitated, but Adama gave him a look that could melt a Centurion. With help, he stood and shuffled over to her.

There were tears dried on her cheeks.

"She loves you."

Bill's brain seemed to swell with a surge of questions. Does she really love him? Did he love her? What is it like between them? Had he made love to her as he'd already fantasized about doing? How in the world did this happen? Bill couldn't form a coherent sentence, so he just stared at her as she woke.

"Bill?" Her groggy voice pronounced his name and it sounded familiar and foreign all at the same time. He swayed and felt a blackness coming over him, like a blanket snuffing out the light. The deck rushed up to meet him, and he heard the distant sound of his name again. His eyes felt heavier and heavier as he slipped into a dream-filled coma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, really enjoyed writing this chapter. I'd love to hear your reviews-positive encouragement or constructive criticism welcome!
> 
> Stay safe everyone.
> 
> *Crosses fingers on updating faster.*


	60. Raptor Talon

William "Husker" Adama dominated the skies in his Viper. Although still labeled a "rook" by Fleet standards, he turned more Cylons into space dust than any other pilot. He would be the hot-shot Viper jock drinking from Galactica's Top-Gun cup after this battle.

The battle raged around him. A thousand explosions pin-pricked the sky and their fire eclipsed the twinkle of distant stars. He knew his duty: find the enemy. They were at war. Insane or not, that was his mission. So he whipped the nose of his Viper around in a sharp one hundred eighty degree turn to check his six. Shoved backwards in his seat by the intensity of the g-forces, he could barely breathe. Only a rare Viper pilot could pull off the maneuver at full speed and not spin out or pass out from the intense force of inertia on the body. To Husker it was almost euphoric. The thrill, the speed, the power it all made him feel like Zeus. He sunk into a trance-like state, letting instinct take over.

His comm unit chirped to life and a woman's voice struggled to break through the static. His wingmate, he assumed, because his gut told him to trust her. Her familiar warm voice promised to stay beside him. He knew she'd been a good wingmate to him because he relied on her without a single doubt. What was her name?

Without thinking, he dodged the bullets flying his way. It would only take one lucky bullet against his fuel tank to turn him into part of the growing debris field around him. Lining up in his sights the Cylon Raiders who were harassing some Search-and-Rescue Raptors, he felt a tingling thrill race through his body all the way to the tips of his fingers gripping the trigger. He blew the Cylon SOBs to hell, more casualties of another battle.

What battle was this? He'd seen so many, and after experiencing over a hundred engagements, they blurred together. He'd lived through so much fighting and he lacked the clarity to bring each battle into focus. Looking out from his cockpit he noticed the reflection of the face of a young, unscared, brown-haired "rook" in the haziness of the cockpit's canopy and wondered how hundreds of battles weighed on such a young man. He felt burdened by so, so many things and it was easier to clear his head and chase Cylons through the skies. He ran from everything; he flew away from his life on Caprica and the father who didn't understand him, the wife who didn't love him, the sons who didn't forgive him, and a President who didn't survive for him. He frowned, trying to make sense of his thoughts and knowing he needed to remember something.

He listened to the comforting voice of his wingmate over the comms again. "Hold on."

He refocused—distractions got many a good pilot killed. To the left, a squadron of four Raiders barreled toward him as if they sensed the danger Husker posed. He twisted to port, bringing them into his crosshairs while dancing out of their firing solution. Those Cylons became part of the endless explosions in the orange and yellow cacophony outside his cockpit. He dodged around the debris with ease.

He handled his plane as if born to be a pilot, like flying was in his blood like cheap wine. Distracted for a moment, he frowned, trying to remember where he'd heard that line before. His lapsed concentration allowed a Cylon to saddle up behind him. Bullets whizzed past him.

"Someone's just trying to show me a good time," Husker drawled as DRADIS showed the Raider closing in on him, spraying bullets in his direction that forced him to bob and weave through the skies. "Well, I can dance too," he grinned. His alert gaze exuded focus as he oriented his bird and decided how to deal with his little buddy. They zigzagged past the mangled remains of enemies and comrades alike. Bullets rained past his Viper. Husker's world narrowed to himself and the machine trying to knock him off the board. The dogged pursuit pushed them to the edge of battle. 'Frakkin' toasters think they're getting clever—,' Husker mused, 'almost human.'

A few bullets ripped a hole in his wing and he swore up a storm in Tauron. He experimented with moving his stick, assessing the damage and noting some of his maneuvering ability had been shot to hell. Playtime's over, he decided. Sweat gathered in his flight suit as he let the Cylon close in on him. He arched his Viper out of the enemy's fire, all the while letting the distance between them shrink. The Cylon remained on his tail like a bad rash, promising death and vengeance for all the perceived wrongs humans inflicted upon its mechanical brethren, but he wasn't fated to die by a Cylon's hand.

Close enough. Husker cut the engines for less than half a second before firing them up again and spraying bullets into his would-be killer. The shots flew true. His friend exploded. A cloud of shrapnel and molten metal erupted in front of him, bigger than Husker expected and far too close. The shockwave smacked into his ship and the concussive force knocked him off balance, sending him spiraling toward the planet below. As his vision greyed out from the g's, he managed to fight the effect long enough to grab the ejection handle.

"Don't leave me!" his wingmate begged. Husker's body was thrown from the cockpit, and as the parachutes unfurled above him, he fell unconscious.

…

Husker struggled to consciousness from where he lay sprawled on the ground and pushed off his helmet with a grunt. Around him the icy wind bit into his face, spreading its cold to him. His flight suit protected him from most of the cold, but he shivered as snow fell against his neck and each breath of freezing air stung his lungs.

Not one of his finer landings, he decided, sitting up. Pain throbbed around his skull and there was a ringing in his ears, but if he walked away with nothing more than a concussion he'd count his lucky snowflakes. Cutting himself free from the deployed chute, he stood on unsteady legs. The crash must have done a number on his head, he realized, blinking a few times to bring the world into focus.

He observed his surroundings. A rook he might be, but whether in a Viper, Battlestar, or on foot, he knew that situational awareness remained one of the most important elements of military combat. As his instructors drilled into him: there was no use in being a sharpshooter who could hit the flashing red eye on a Centurion if its sneaky devil of a buddy snuck up behind and knocked him on his sorry human ass. Not today motherfrakkers, Husker thought and looked all around. Already humbled enough at having his Viper shot down, he wouldn't become easy target practice for Centurions.

He found no sign of an active Cylon presence, but the large buildings he crashed down beside seemed an immediate point of concern. He unholstered his gun, but no clanking metal came out to greet their uninvited guest.

This brought Husker to another element of military combat: good soldiers should commit all pre-flight briefings to memory even when preoccupied with eyeing the pretty blonde Raptor pilot. Hadn't he decided he preferred opinionated redheads. Husker cleared his head of redheaded distractions and recalled the information his CAG relayed from Fleet Intelligence. They believed there to be a Cylon research facility located on the surface of this hunk of ice that passed as a planet dedicated to creating a superweapon. Twelve years of brutal war later, the Twelve Colonies united with the signing of the Articles of Colonization, and the united Fleet developed Battlestars that turned the tide of war in the human's favor.

The idea of Cylons working on a superweapon made everyone's heads spin with doomsday scenarios. Husker knew their enemy would never be content to just wreck havoc on their worlds; they wanted humanity eradicated. A next-generation weapon system of that potentially devastating severity, worried Picon Fleet Headquarters who became hell-bent on ripping the planet out of Cylon hands.

Looks like these bastards are mine, Husker thought as he studied at the building - one of the uglier structures he'd seen. Cylons must have built the large structure out of the dullest concrete they could find. How could their logic algorithms conceive beauty? They lacked any appreciation for the detailed work of an artist, or the soft curves of a woman. Cylons lacked humanity—for now. Feeling a shudder run up his spine, he unclipped his handheld comm unit from his belt. As he studied the building, a headache throbbed between his ears and his sense of reality warped. For a moment, everything seemed not quite right, but something clicked. The creeping sense of familiarity was powerful, like a dream half-remembered. He'd lived through this moment before and seen this building. The sensation passed and Husker shook his head, he held up his comm unit.

"Galactica, Husker, come in," he said into the comm. He tried to raise his ship a few more times but only received cracked static in reply. Putting his ear closer to the speaker, he caught the feminine voice of his wingman breaking in and out of the static.

"...save him, doctor…"

"...can't promise…will work…" another voice said, rough and deeper than his girl's voice. Signals must be getting crossed, he assumed, and his comm was picking up on his wingman mounting a rescue effort. He chuckled. She'd rip the planet and any experimental Cylon labs on it apart in order to bring him home.

The building with its haunting familiarity called to him as if it dared him to come inside. Husker recalled the third thing the Fleet had taught him: when things evolved from a SNAFU to a TARFU, he needed to pull his boots up and still get his gods-forsaken job done. Crash landing behind enemy lines, in Husker's cocky opinion, did not constitute a full blown FUBAR for him. He could handle whatever lurked in that Cylon lab. He headed there. The Fleet needed to know what was inside.

Creeping through the building, the air pressed in from all directions as if telling him he should probably get out of there before he became another human spirited away by machines. He walked over the brown spots on the water-stained concrete floor. From above came an orange-hued light, which cast shadows on the abandoned equipment. He walked through the corridor, his gun raised and ready. He was going to find it, whatever the Cylons were working on. He edged closer and closer.

He stopped when he came to a doorway and looked around the large cage that barred him from entering. There were more cages inside and some bunks with chains welded to the wall beside them. A draft of air from the room caught him in the face and it reeked of fear and panic. He choked on the whiff of foul air and felt bile collecting in the back of his mouth. Then the rage hit. Holding his breath, he checked for survivors but found none. His eyes lingered on the stains faded to a rust-red in the room. His comm sparked to life again.

"...prognosis is grim…"

"...Cylons are built slightly better to endure than…blood also be blessed with heightened resistance to disease…"

"...have Sharon's permission to use Hera's blood…"

The three voices over his comm, not clear enough to understand fully, were enough to drag his focus away from the nightmarish room. He tore himself away from the door and moved down the hallway, stepping over fallen pipes and crushing broken glass under his boots. He guessed that the Cylons abandoned the place in a hurry and ripped whatever was useful out with little care to the building. He found more rooms, many of them labs with examination tables and restraints. Repulsed by the sight, he didn't enter a room with what looked to be human organs preserved in jars. Cylons had begun taking prisoners, a divergence from their earlier standard of leaving no survivors. His skin crawled. What the hell could they be working on, Husker wondered, appalled and angered at what he saw. White-knuckled from gripping his gun too hard, he gritted teeth and kept moving. All the while anger raged in him like acid, burning, slicing, potent.

One lab caught his attention and he moved in, doing a visual sweep of the room to confirm the lack of hostiles. His trigger finger twitched because after what he'd seen, he itched to put a few holes in some unlucky Cylons. The room offered him no targets. Instead computers lined the wall, their screens showing data picked up from the sensors and probes aimed toward the center of the room. There stood a pedestal with metal prongs clearly designed to hold up a small artifact. Now empty, Husker figured the Cylons must have grabbed it when they abandoned the facility. Well-lit and unstained, the room hummed with what seemed to be a different energy than all those previous labs, and Husker circled the central pedestal and gleaned what information he could.

It offered nothing remarkable, just a way to hold up whatever fascinated the Cylons, but the computers suggested that it once held something incredible. Data on the screens noted that whatever they'd been studying defied conventional analysis. It resembled no known form of energy and was made with an unknown substance. Possible research for their superweapon, he realized. He pulled a data disk from one of the many pockets on his uniform and pushed it into an access terminal.

"I hate computers," he muttered as he set the program to rip the computer's data over to his disk. Fleet Intelligence would love this. As the data downloaded, he looked around and noticed papers scattered on one of the desks. Most of them looked like printed data entries but there was a map marking out a place on Geminon and a scanned page from what looked like an old book. An illustration of a mythical-like figure surrounded by billowing mist rising from cracks in the ground. The woman raised her hands to the sky and seemed possessed by a power greater than her mortal form. He needed to remember something.

"...still might not remember, Madame President…"

"He's a fighter. He'll come back."

"Laura?" he whispered. For a moment, it hurt to breathe. He snatched the data disk from its terminal and moved out of the room before the walls seemed to close in around him. He stumbled through the hall and over its debris, putting distance between him and that room. The floor felt like it was falling out from underneath him. He moved down the hall, further away from the room. For a moment, he wondered if he was dreaming.

He entered the heart of the facility and his heart pounded in his chest but his blood ran cold. His eyes travelled from the vivisected, amputated limbs of humans to the tables and the cages. His stomach curdled like he'd swallowed sour milk. The air felt heavy and hot. Sweat gathered on his brow and dripped into his eyes, but the sting couldn't cause him to look away. It was a room of horrors, and for a moment he could see the people and hear the tortured screams of prisoners. The echo faded.

He edged forward toward the center of the room. He stood over a basin that contained water that was tinged with red. Compelled by a force he didn't understand, he reached into the liquid but there was nothing there. He looked around the room again and a human hand burst from the goo and grabbed onto him with an iron grip.

Husker struggled to break away and an old man sat slowly up from the liquid. He appeared ancient, but the man's grip remained unbroken. He looked at the tubes protruding out from the man, where metal and flesh fused together. He felt disgusted at the Cylon abomination clutching him. He brought his sidearm up and took aim, but when he squeezed the trigger nothing happened.

"What is this?" he demanded.

"Memory, reality, and dream—all the same, all different, all together. Don't you remember?" Husker felt like he should, and strained to reach for the hazy images at the edge of his mind. He pulled against the hand gripping him. As the memories took shape he stopped struggling as confusion took over.

"I've been here before."

"And you've returned again, William Adama. I've been waiting for you a long time."

"You told me something." Husker tried to remember, but it didn't make sense—a voice from a man there but not there and echoes of the past. His head hurt.

"'All this has happened before, and all this will happen again.' And so you live the Cycle again. I can see it all as the stream turns into the river and becomes the sea, always flowing. The pain of revelation brings new clarity. In the midst of loss you find her again and in the midst of confusion you find what you seek."

Below the surface of the water, a light glowed where the old man clutched a sphere in his hand. Husker stared at the orb as the man continued to speak.

"On the day you have everything you remember when you had nothing. You have a question to answer, Adama, one of the oldest in the universe, one I asked you before. You know the answer. Did you make the most of loving her?" the Hybrid challenged.

Adama felt his heart constrict in his chest when he thought about the question. He heard the woman's voice over the comm again, gently pleading for him to come back.

"Yes," he admitted softly. He knew, on some instinctive level, that he'd loved her as she deserved. He may not remember the details, but yes all the same. Yes to her. Yes to their children. Yes to their life and this unknown future he'd been gifted, even if he never fully understood how it came to be. Yes, because he knew how grateful and peaceful he felt every time her voice came over the comm.

The Hybrid closed his eyes and the room began to fade around them. "There's laughter in an autumn breeze, and a smile in the sun. Moments captured in amber, and memory locked in the heart. In the mountains there's a stream of water clear as glass, and a small cabin built there. The water is lapping with low sounds by the shore. There's peace there. Wake up Adama, and tell her what you remembered."

...

Something burned through his veins, and Bill awoke twisting in agony. He was surrounded by beeping, voices, and alarms. Bright lights blinded him to his surroundings.

An urgent voice penetrated through the fog, "Damn, he's convulsing. Get me 10cc of Ketracel!"

Someone screamed for a nurse.

"Admiral, you are in sickbay, please try to relax. You are safe. We found a cure."

He tried to speak, wanting to know what happened. His body felt like a Viper landed on it. Panic arose again in him. More beeping. What was in his blood? It burned.

"We need to stabilize his heart rate! Admiral, please try to breathe."

"Doctor, he's going to go into cardiac arrest!"

"Get me…"

A shadow fell over the bed, blocking the unforgiving light.

"Bill," the familiar voice spoke. He felt warm fingers interlacing with his, anchoring him. "Everything is going to be alright, I promise." She would not lie to him. He trusted her. He loved her.

He held tightly onto her hand. In his mind he remembered how her face looked, set with determination as she told him they needed to run. He watched her lead the Quorum with dignity and grace. He stroked her newly bald head as she cried in his arms. She wore a red dress and laughed. He saw a grave. Darkness encroached once again.

"Rest Bill, I'll be here when you wake up," she promised, still holding him. His fingers tightened. His saw his fingers intertwined with hers, resting on each side of her head as she grinned from under him. Her arms held a small infant up for him to take. Images flashed through his mind: three boys, first steps, birthdays, shoreleaves, boxing, pillow forts, books, candlelit dinners, then another newborn in the arms of her weary mother who rested against him in a Raptor—bringing forth life in the place she'd once died. He remembered how they found their way from the lonely places they'd been, through trauma, loss, and danger, into this life. His heart warmed as he remembered everything miraculous in this lifetime. Comforted, he relaxed and let the sedatives do their work.

She was here. When he awoke, all would be well.

...

Bill woke up gradually. The stinging odor of antiseptic gel filled his nose when he inhaled. Underneath that, the stink of cigarette smoke was vaguely nauseating—the smell of Galactica's sickbay. He carefully opened his eyes and found the lighting subdued and his head significantly clearer. It must be the night shift. Much of his body throbbed with a dull ache, but the searing agony had left him.

He tried to wriggle his fingers to feel for his wedding ring, but there was something on top of his left hand. With small, careful movements he looked up to see what caused the pressure on his hand. He was met with the sight of unruly red hair tumbling around where a woman slept on his hand.

"Laura," he breathed, and then he remembered the facts he'd recited over the past few days. One, he'd been very sick; two, they'd gone back in time; three, he'd had amnesia; and four, he'd married Laura Roslin.

She must have dozed off keeping watch over him. Her head rested, at what looked to be a very uncomfortable angle, against his midsection. Even in her sleep, she looked exhausted with shadows under her eyes. He raised his free hand to touch her, and gently brushed his thumb across her cheek. He traced the path of dried tears.

She stirred and blinked awake. Her green eyes met his blue ones.

"Bill?" There were a hundred questions in his name. Are you alright? Do you remember? Are we still a family? Do you still love me?

She leaned up and kept herself composed and he admired her strength. Bill decided there could be no version of reality in which he doesn't come to love this woman. He smiled at her, one of his rare tender smiles, and he watched as her breath caught in her throat.

"I'm here, Laura," he promised and let her see the truth in his eyes. He threaded his fingers through her hair, guiding her cheek to his chest so he could wrap his arms around her. She slid her hand over his chest to rest above his beating heart. Settled against him, he held her tight and let her feel how loved she was.

"I'll never be free of her, nor do I want to be. For she is what I am, all that is, should always be," he said in a soft gravelly voice. He felt her fingers curl into his shirt as she held on for dear life.

"Laura, I remember everything. And I know where the orb is."


	61. The Arvhives

“Please... stop,” a murmured voice begged, breaking through the haze of sleep in which Bill drifted. He woke to an almost complete darkness. Disoriented, he grunted and frowned while his eyes strained to focus on the disturbance. “Please… no, no!” Laura’s frantic words were whispered close to his ear. She was pressed so close that he felt each puff of her agitated breath. At his wife’s further distressed sounds, his mind slammed fully back into the waking world as concern and the familiar rush of his memories flooded through him. He propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at the troubled but still slumbering woman next to him. 

“You’re alright,” he promised in the husky, gravelly voice of someone still sleepy. “You’re alright,” he repeated and hoped to soothe her dreams and let her keep resting. She’d worked tirelessly throughout the whole ordeal, but even her impressive energy reserves reached its limits. Laura’s body had drooped in exhaustion before she’d conceded to sleep. 

As he had for seventeen years, Bill held her close as they went to bed, overjoyed at both how new and routine it felt. Laura had kept up a strong facade. But once they’d lain down she’d pressed suffocatingly close in her visceral need to feel him near. He understood and certainty didn’t mind. Nightmares troubled his nights over the years, especially in the early days of this second timeline before he became fully convinced it was real. 

He kept talking to her as she settled down. Ever since waking up from the coma, all his memories—both good and bad—rushed back and made his experiences feel immediate and new, but also familiar and old. While the many awakened memories made every moment of happiness resonate with fresh wonder, it also ripped open old scars and poured salt over the wounds. Sometimes, he couldn’t help but compare the timelines. As Bill offered comfort to Laura while her nightmare eased, it occurred to him that he’d never truly enjoyed sleeping side-by-side with his ex-wife. He remembered how long deployments acclimated Carolanne and him to sleeping better apart, yet now Bill slept better when Laura lay beside him despite the nightmares.

Laura whimpered something unintelligible against his neck as her fingernails bit into his shoulder blades from her unconscious desire to draw him closer. He allowed her painful grip to continue while he breathed reassurances against her ear. Hearing her whisper his name, he wondered what troubled her. Able to recall the extensive list of traumatic events they’d endured, he realized there were too many terrible memories that could be the cause of her pain. There were still moments lost in a fog, but he recalled the confusion, anger, love, hope, and loss. She stirred against him.

“Bill?” she asked, and he looked down into her opened eyes where the sheen of unfallen tears caught the light from the screens in his quarters. She looked down. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“It’s alright,” he assured her, but he knew she regretted disturbing him. He felt how she forced her grip to relax, her nails releasing him. She disentangled her body from his, and although it gave him room to move again, Bill didn’t need her to disguise what she felt or needed. He reached out and pulled her back against him, letting her face burrow back into the crook of his neck. He placed a hand on her head and gently stroked her hair as if he could erase her nightmares with a loving touch. He would if he could, but then he’d always been protective of her. After a moment, he let out a deep breath as their limbs entwined back together and she accepted his comfort. He didn’t need her strong facade, he just needed her. 

He remembered being released to his quarters after he was cured. His duty as Admiral of the Fleet ingrained in him, he'd insisted on receiving every report missed along with a briefing from Admiral Cain. Despite the returned deluge of troubled memories dealing with infamous Cain, she assured him that the military hadn’t actually disintegrated under her reign. Bill recalled how, after concluding Fleet business, he’d devoted time to Evelyn and Liam, at once both horrified at forgetting them but elated at having children by Laura. Laura herself had observed their interactions closely as she worked, as if she’d either needed reassurances that he’d fully returned or she feared he might slip away again.

He murmured words of love and comfort and felt her relax as she gave her own sniffled replies. Letting his fingers run through her locks and caress her back, he considered himself thoroughly rewarded when Laura snuggled further into him as her breathing deepened and evened out. Bill contemplated the strong, stubborn, independent woman who accepted the love, warmth, and protection he wanted to give. Checking on his daughter sleeping in her crib by the rack, Bill went back to sleep remembering how he was a lucky man. 

…

“I didn’t realize Galactica had an archive,” Laura admitted as she examined the section of Galactica she’d never before visited. Bill guided them through narrow aisles between shelves of tightly-packed boxes and paraphernalia. She thought it was nice to know there were still new things to discover aboard the place she thought of as home. She wondered how such a place escaped her notice in both rounds of preparation to turn Galactica into a museum.

“Every Battlestar has one,” Liam spoke up from where he trailed behind them. “It preserves the records of a Battlestar and its Battlestar Group. The documents and mementos are kept to show the history and accomplishments that happened onboard.”

Bill looked over his shoulder at Liam and grinned with pride. Even though Liam neared adulthood, Laura noticed how he still reveled in his father’s approval, especially after impressing him with his military knowledge. Lee had mentioned joining her political world, Zak made his own path in the medical field, but Liam seemed the one destined to follow in his father’s footsteps. Laura recalled their conversations where Bill contemplated each son’s choice, and her own laughter at his baffled surprise when the son he’d never, ever pushed to join the Fleet and become a pilot like him turned out the most eager to pick up the flag. Laura realized that Liam possessed traits from both of them that promised he’d be fit for command one day, but she counted the days he still had left to be young and foolish. In the end, both parents were proud of each child. Still, Laura hoped it wasn’t wrong to pray that Evie became a schoolteacher like her—or at least chose something nice and safe.

Dust collected everywhere on the records, and only small amounts of light filtered into the shelves. They heard the creak and hum of Galactica’s nearby engines deep in the underbelly of the ship. They passed row after row of ceiling-high stacked containers, arranged in chronological order; it really was the complete, compressed history of Galactica.

“Battlestars keep the original copies of most documents onboard. Something they started during the First Cylon War when networks weren’t used—because only crazy people want to network ships,” Bill provoked and gave her a teasing look. She looked at him over the rim of her glasses but didn’t reply. He frowned, disappointed that she hadn’t been baited into a verbal sparring match. “It means the data I downloaded during Operation Raptor Talon should be here. Unless it was a coma-induced vision,” he added. 

She sighed and hoped they weren’t on another gods-forsaken wild goose chase. After the coma, she’d listened to him recount the uncovered memory he’d experienced, once forgotten as a result of the Hybrid and captured humans dominating the experience in his mind. It seemed ironic that he now chased after the orb with her dragged along behind him.

“Laura?” her attention returned to her husband who tilted his head and tried to look her in the eye. She could hear his question as if he’d spoken it aloud, are you okay?

“Sorry. I’m a little distracted,” she deflected and turned her attention to Liam, who she realized had darted off. She heard the sound of him walking through the shelves and occasionally exclaiming at something he discovered. Knowing she remained under Bill’s scrutiny, Laura summoned a tired smile and nodded toward the sounds Liam made. “He’s happy to have you back.”

“It must have been confusing for him,” Bill offered carefully as he thought back on some of the things he said while sick. He cringed when he remembered the more biting remarks he delivered, especially about Hera, elections, prophesies, and a relationship with her. “Tough on both of you.” 

Laura sensed Bill holding the door open if she wanted to talk about what happened, the loving husband now restored. “We’re fine now,” Laura assured him. 

She stepped forward and they continued through the archives while she distracted him with questions about his early days in the Fleet and listened to his answers. Being six years younger than him, she’d lived a very different version of the First Cylon War and so appreciated his stories. She enjoyed listening to him, and it also relieved Laura that she didn’t have to say much while Bill shared his Fleet tales. The large quantity of coffee she drank earlier didn’t shake off the sluggish fog in which she drifted as a result from a lack of sleep. She’d only pretended to go back to sleep the previous night so Bill didn’t worry. He carried enough burdens and she refused to add to his load. Laura barricaded her feelings behind a tall wall to keep him from realizing just how worried and hurt she’d been from the amnesia. He was back and everything was fine, she told herself. 

Bill stopped and pulled at a box on the shelf and she noticed the date inscribed on it. Laura’s breath caught in her throat as she watched him balance the box against the shelves and lift the lid. This was it. The possibility of answers piqued her curiosity. Holding her breath, she watched him shuffle through the box for a moment before he plucked out a folder. 

“After-action report and hopefully the hard copy of the data I downloaded,” he said and handed the folder to her. Many documents inside the archive contained sensitive information, and Bill had needed to use his clearance as Galactica’s CO to get inside. The folder he handed her was marked as confidential, but at least theoretically, as Commander-in-Chief she held the highest clearance in the Fleet. Even so, she wasn’t actually naive enough to believe the Fleet always let the President in on all their secrets; they were too habitually ingrained with restricting tactical details to only those who needed to know. She undid the tie that held the folder closed without waiting and flipped it open to scan through the papers. 

“Here it is,” she said, holding up the data chip. The disk itself needed to be decrypted before they could access its data, but the written report contained the familiar scrawled writing she associated with Bill. So, not a fevered coma delusion but a real memory, it seemed. “You might never have remembered this if not for the coma.”

After replacing the box, Bill turned to her. She felt his eyes on her as he took a step closer, erasing the physical distance between them. “I can’t imagine what the disease put you through.”

“Yes, you can,” Laura replied in a calm almost dispassionate voice and shook her head as she remembered the nights he’d suffered his own horrible dreams from which he woke in fear, mouth dry, heart pounding, and pulling her to him like a lifeline. He knew. Well-concealed behind the stoic soldier was a man with a great depth of feeling, and even he never found the words that described his agony at watching her fade and succumb to cancer. 

“Ok. It’s similar to the cancer,” he admitted while his sharpened gaze assessed her, ever the tactician, as if checking for damage. “But your mind and memories didn’t fade. Even when we met back on Picon I saw the recognition in your eyes. That was never taken from me. I saw how worried you were when I came out of the coma.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Laura talk to me. I know it bothered you,” he said when she offered nothing else. He took hold of her slumped shoulders, anchoring her in place and forcing her to keep facing him. Laura berated herself; he was still recovering and reclaiming his leadership role, he didn’t need to worry about her. 

She tried to summon her reassuring smile. “I’m just tired.”

“Is that all?” His blue eyes bored into her as if he could see right through her.

“Please, drop it.” She sensed her self-control hanging by a silken thread.

“Don’t pull back from me.” 

“Bill, it hurt. Of course it did. We’ve overcome so much and then a virus managed to erase me.” Her mind caught up with the words and she stopped. Her stomach tightened and the heat of tears pushed against her eyes. She turned her face away, afraid that this cry wouldn’t simply be a few tears that escaped once started. 

“Let it out,” Bill said. He slid his hands over her shoulders and she felt his arms circling around her back until he could pull her to him gently and she forced herself to relax. It felt so natural for him to take care of her like this once more. Even so, she felt exposed and guilty with her lingering fears and anger, but he tightened his grip, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other across her shoulders. “I’m your husband and I’ve told you I want to be there for you even if that means you cry all over me.” 

Her fists gripped his uniform and she wondered why it was so hard to let him see her tears once more. She recognized her partner’s desire, need even, to support and love her.

“I know it wasn’t your fault but suddenly you weren’t the man I’ve known for twenty years. It was my worst nightmare, seeing the man I chose to share my life with vanish. The amnesia turned you back into the military hardass who couldn't understand why he married someone he saw as a manipulative politician. And I was scared you wouldn’t come back. You looked for photos of another woman, someone whom I remember pushing me down the stairs and causing me to go into premature labor with our son! A son I watched you slowly forget along with our daughter.” Her throat constricted and she stopped speaking and forced herself to breathe. “But it’s over.”

There was now a crack in the dam, but Bill didn’t get a chance to exploit the opening. Approaching footsteps prompted them to break apart and the distinctive click of high heels alerted them that their family was no longer alone in archives. “Madame President?” Tory called out and Laura sighed.

“There’s always something,” Laura muttered. She wiped at her face to erase any tears that threatened to escape and hoped she didn’t look too messy. “I’ll be right back.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, and she looked up at him with a small smile. He caught her hand before she began to move away. “I’ll never willingly leave you.”

Understanding flashed in her eyes and she nodded. He watched her slip away and saw the weight of the worlds on her shoulders. They’d learned to share their burdens together, and he wanted to take back his share. He realized the amnesia rattled her more than she wanted to let on. Sighing, he went off in search of his son Liam who enjoyed this trip down memory lane. 

One row over, his son had found a box from the time when his father joined the Fleet. Liam fished a photograph from a box and cocked his head at it before looking up at his approaching father. 

“You graduated top of the viper squadron and Commander Nash made you start out as a bus driver?” Liam said, showing him the photo of young Husker and the rest of the Raptor pilots who served aboard Galactica during that time. It wasn’t long after the photo that he’d been transferred to flying Vipers, but it remained a meaningful time to Bill and he took the photo. Bill frowned when he realized that he and Coker were the only surviving members of the group. Shoving the depressing thoughts to the side, he leaned against the shelves by Liam.

“I showed up ready to take on the whole Cylon fleet in my viper. Thing is, every good CO needs to know when to knock the hot-shot rookie pilot down a peg or two. Making me swallow my pride and start out as a Raptor pilot probably saved my life,” he said. Liam nodded and Bill watched him tuck that nugget of information away for later use one day.

“Dad, can I ask you something?” Liam asked as he put away the photo and replaced the lid on the box. 

“Sure.” Bill braced himself when there was a moment of hesitation from Liam. 

“Promise to tell me the truth?” Liam added. Bill could recognize the last few days troubled Liam as well. He knew Liam had watched his father become a completely different person. He noted the intensity in Liam’s gaze when he looked over at his father, and Bill recognized the start of an uncomfortable conversation. Still, Bill tried to be honest with each of his children, so he nodded. “Do you ever regret remembering the other timeline?”

In his heart, he played back the things he said while sick and confused. He remembered once again believing himself incapable of having and loving a family. He recalled rage, too much self-condemnation, and being a vehement judge of his shortcomings. But he also remembered a journey, and he smiled at his son. “No. I’m the person I am today because of those memories, the good and the bad. I made the decisions I did with the knowledge and information I had at the time. A man lives with the choices he makes—right or wrong. Luckily for me those choices, those memories, led me to your siblings, you, and your mother.“

“So what would you have done if you gained your memories earlier? Like a year earlier? You’d have still been…” 

“Been married to my ex?” Bill asked as Liam trailed off. It sounded strange for Liam to mention Carolann, even if not by name. She existed more like a phantom on the outskirts of his reality, someone he logically knew existed but for whom he spared little thought. 

They walked down the aisle toward the exit, Liam now looking at the dull grey floor. “It’s just that Mom said something when you were sick about wedding vows. It got me thinking.”

Bill sighed and heard the unspoken questions in his son’s probing. Liam wondered if those first vows would have prompted Bill to stay in his first marriage if possible. Could Bill have chosen to abandon Laura and therefore not have Liam. He tried to find the words to reassure his son, but he’d never been as good with words as with actions. “I should tell you a story,” he realized and told Liam about the time Laura went aboard a Basestar and it disappeared. Liam listened as his father wove the story about searching for the missing Basestar but only finding the remains of a battle. Liam raised an eyebrow when Bill told him how he refused to believe the President’s missing Basestar was destroyed. They paused in their walking when Bill told Liam how he decided to remain at the rendezvous coordinates and wait for the wayward President. 

“That’s crazy, dad.”

He put a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Maybe. But I was willing to give up everything to find a woman who I knew was dying. When Lee asked why, I told him it was because I couldn't live without her. That hasn’t changed. So, it wouldn’t have mattered when the memories came back. I’d have found her.” He noticed Laura had rounded the corner and had stopped to listen to them. “Sine qua non,” he said, meeting her eyes. She brushed a falling tear away. 

“We need to go to the brig,” Laura said in a choked and half-whispered voice. “There’s been an incident. A civilian discovered the second pregnant Sharon in sickbay after she helped with the cure. She transmitted some photos before being captured.”

…

Laura imagined a storm on the Caprican horizon with grey clouds that promised to deliver punishing winds and drowning rains. She longed to feel the rain against her skin and smell the crisp, cold air left after a storm died. A real storm promised to rage for a time until it pressed on and left the world refreshed. Instead, Laura passed by plain grey metal walls that never changed, and they seemed caught in one continuous storm that desired nothing so much as capsizing their ships. 

Laura frowned and supposed it really didn’t matter if spaceships went belly up since their crews stuck to the artificial gravity plated decks. Shaking herself, she listened to Billy running her through what they’d agreed to tell the press. Despite being a finicky group who delighted in making her job difficult, they’d rallied behind her after the Zarek and Dagon debacle. As before the apocalypse, they remained a self-serving lot to be sure and none of them quite dared to be the one to topple their President off the pedestal on which the Pythian Prophecy plopped her. Laura supposed being married to the man with all the military might helped; the reporters sensed Adama would like nothing better than to round them all up onto an unpleasant garbage scow and then launch them off in the opposite direction of wherever the Fleet was going. 

Laura knew the reporters were less than pleased with only receiving scraps of information leaked about the second Sharon Valerii on Galactica and anticipated cracking open a can of worms for their viewers. So she summoned her brave facade, knowing the people expected to see whatever they needed at the moment from her: president, prophet, or cat-herder. The media remained a powerful tool for keeping the Fleet united, so she commanded them the way Bill commanded his ship.

She stepped into the room used for press briefings when they were held on Galactica and noticed her Admiral standing near the podium. He scowled but it didn’t appear that he’d spoken to any reporters. Small mercies, thought Laura. When needed, he addressed reporters with an easy confidence of someone unintimidated, but her straightforward husband never mastered the nuances necessary in talking to the press. Admittedly, she found him entertaining when he was confronted with people he couldn’t order around. He’s back, she assured herself, meeting his compassionate gaze. She tried to remember that at the end of the day she was once more able to go home and simply be Laura the woman no matter what the Fleet demanded or the media horde put her through.

The press fell silent as she walked up to the podum, knowing they’d get answers faster if they allowed her the breathing room to give her prepared statement and then badgered her. She adjusted her glasses, held herself tall, and nodded in acknowledgment of the assembled reporters. 

“Good morning, and thank you for coming today. I have a short statement before I open the floor to questions. I’m sure word of a second Cylon’s presence has spread to the entire Fleet. In consultation with Fleet Admiral Adama I have decided to confirm with you the presence of this Cylon in our Fleet. It is another copy of the model we know as Sharon Valerrii and it has been in custody aboard Galactica. She has been safeguarded while she continues to provide information about the Cylons that benefits the Fleet. We can confirm her participation in synthesizing a cure for the recent disease in the Fleet. Know that I cannot divulge confidential information needed to preserve the safety of this Fleet, but I will take your questions at this time.” After a second passed during which the press let out their obligatory surprised gasps, they started shouting questions. Laura raised her hands to signal them to settle down but they persisted in yelling over each other. She gave them a look that clearly demonstrated her impatience as they settled down so she could call on a single reporter.

“Is it true that because of the cure Admiral Adama has Cylon blood in him?!” Laura froze and dropped her hands on the podium. Talk about starting with the big questions. She remembered dodging similar questions in the other timeline and knew the press wouldn’t be satisfied with any answer she gave.

“The exact nature of the cure is still…”

“What about side effects from the cure? How can the people be sure their leaders are still fit for leadership!” Her face hardened and Laura smoothed her hands down the red silk skirt she wore and clasped them calmly behind her. She’d deliberately worn the color of fire and blood, channeling her power and strength into a visible display. A politician’s trick she’d learned.

Another reporter jumped in. “Does this mean you support the Demand Peace movement?” 

“Not necessarily. However, I will be discussing important issues any groups raise with members of the Quorum to ensure…”

Another younger reporter butted in with, “Madame President, how long do you have to live?’ 

Laura frowned. She couldn't have heard that right. “Can you repeat that?”

“How long has the Cylon been in the Fleet?”

Despite her lapse in concentration, Laura kept her face neutral and replied, “Several months.”

“How can we be sure it doesn’t pose a security risk?”

Bill stepped forward. “If I felt she posed a threat to the Fleet, to my wife and my children, I’d pull the trigger on the Cylon myself,” he swore and at the sudden quiet that fell over the room, Laura knew they believed him. She believed him. 

“Thank you for your time,” Laura said, stepping away from the podium. Really, how could she top his response? Best to let the press stew on Adama’s words for a while, she hoped. 

...

Striding from the press room, she kept her head held high. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a familiar figure approach and allowed herself to smile. 

“Wally!” she exclaimed. “It’s so good to see you well again.”

He returned her smile tightly. “Thank you, Madame President,” he said formally and nodded toward the press reporters scampering back to their ships to turn the latest news into juicy gossip. “Interesting press release. It made me realize we need to talk, Laura. You see, I need to tell you something about the upcoming elections and…” he sighed and shook his head. “And we need to talk about a secret Richard shared with me before the attacks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Thank you to my commentators! I love reading each and every one. If anyone has requests of something they’d like to see in an upcoming chapter, let me know. So, those elections coming up...


	62. Fallback Omega

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is rated M in some sections

Laura's mind buzzed with subtle alarm. In her opinion she walked a very fine line between a reasonable sense of self preservation and a disproportionate paranoia, both well-honed from the situations she'd endured. It also stood to reason that the apocalypse would do strange things to a person's psyche, but Laura liked to believe that she remained balanced. She trusted her gut.

Something was wrong with her Vice President. On the Colonies, her political career had flourished in part because she read people as if they were an open book. Wally's controlled expression, with his carefully affixed and practiced smile, caused Laura's internal alarm bells to fire. Then again, her sense of danger seemed unending lately. Everywhere she went the prickling feeling that something might happen to her or her family remained with her. There were moments when she swore Charon himself stood waiting in the shadows with his flashing gaze fixed on someone she cared about. Sounds like paranoia, Roslin, she berated herself as their group exchanged acceptable public pleasantries while striding through Galactica's corridors. Paranoia or not, Laura wondered what lurked under Wally's politician's facade.

"Are you fully recovered?" she asked her Vice President as she, Wally, and Bill rounded the corner leading to the CO's quarters.

"Physically, yes. To be honest, the amnesia rattled me a bit. For a moment there, it felt like Marcie and our kids were alive again." Wally paused for a moment in the corridor and Laura watched as his shoulders sagged. Her heart went out to him; she'd known Wally and Marcie for a long, long time. She listened kindly as he spoke. "You know, I was convinced it was Damian's fifth birthday the morning before I was cured. That was a good day," Wally said and his head hung while he remembered those he'd lost in the Cylon attacks. Laura reached out and touched his arm in comfort. She sympathized with the amnesia's lasting effects: making everyone miss what was now lost or dredging up memories perhaps better left in the past.

"It's hard," she offered, knowing there was very little one could say to make grief feel better. Wally nodded and they walked on until they arrived at their destination. The President's Secret Service took up position outside the hatch while Bill approached the waiting Maya and retrieved Evelyn from her nanny; Maya had once again proven to be a fast friend and invaluable person to Laura.

"You're lucky to have them, Laura," Wally muttered as they stepped inside. He gave her a sardonic smile once inside. "You know if you release a photo of your so-called prophesied child there, there's a chance the press will be distracted from that bombshell you just dropped on them." Laura chuckled politely, wondering when he'd get to his point. After a moment of awkward silence, he continued: "So, um, any other secrets your Vice President should know about?" The edge in his tone was unmistakable. Not paranoia then, Laura decided, knowing her instincts had been spot on again in regards to her Vice President being troubled. This was more than a grieving man; there was anger and bitterness festering under the surface. She knew to proceed with caution, but decided not to dignify his dig at using her child as media fodder. She imagined Bill already glaring daggers at Wally over it. He allowed her to handle Wally though; Wally was a political issue.

"No secrets that I can think of," she offered and motioned for Wally to make himself comfortable on the couch with her. Laura lowered herself, smoothing her skirt into place and crossing lean legs at the ankles. She kept her back straight and her face still, giving nothing away besides the methodical grace she conveyed. The years conditioned her into using a dignified facade to portray strength and confidence. Bill had stoic control while she had poise. "Do we need to speak more privately?" Laura asked and she caught a low rumble of displeasure from Bill. Wally held up a hand.

'The Admiral might as well stay. I'm sure you'd talk about everything I say anyway. Might as well make it easy."

"Wally…"

"For now, it is what it is, Laura. Is it strange to have the head of the military and head of the civilian government married? Well, yes. You two are effectively one of the most powerful couples ever in Colonial history. We all know the newspapers call you Zeus and Hera for a reason," Wally sighed and shrugged. Laura tried to digest the bitterness in his tone. He scooted forward on the couch and looked her in the eye. "Now, I think it's time to put our cards on the table."

"Alright, I'm listening." She studied Wally as he took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking again. His face hardened and Laura braced herself, foretelling that their conversation wasn't going to be either pleasant or easy. "Wally, whatever it is—"

"Richard told me a story once, years ago, after you were kidnapped off Caprica," he began and Laura felt her husband step up close behind her as if he could ward off the unpleasant memories of her abduction and subsequent ordeal at Cavil's hands. Another time we almost lost each other, she thought, but kept straight-faced and gritted her teeth while Wally spoke. She kept those memories in the farthest recesses of her mind and they weren't welcome for examination or reflection. Bill's hand touched her shoulder, causing her to jump slightly, but it rested there grounding her in the now. I'm here, he was telling her, and so are you. He made it easier to listen to Wally but Laura dreaded what information Richard Adar had divulged to him.

"And after you were rescued, Richard told me everything, Laura. He spun this whole wild story about how you knew the future and were certain Cylons would be back. At first, I thought he was joking, but he was more troubled than I'd ever seen him. We had some drinks and the story just poured out of him."

"Sounds ridiculous," Laura deflected with her own forced smile even as she felt herself go pale.

"It did, and yet look at where we—"

"—he'd had a lot to drink?"

"Yes, and it was still a convincing tale. Look where we are now. And there have been strange things about you, Laura. I remember those early days together in the mayor's office. You were always so quiet, polite, and dignified, but you had the saddest eyes after your family—"

"Your point?" she asked in a low tone. There were some memories no one was allowed to pull out except for her. She felt Bill's thumb rubbing a subtle circle against her shoulder, a simple action that promised his unending support. He was the only one allowed to bring them up, and only very, very rarely.

"Well, it seemed strange when the person who so valued their freedom, made it clear they weren't looking for a relationship or children, and guarded their heart so carefully for so long, one day came home married and completely different. I remember thinking how it looked like you'd come alive again, like before your—" Laura narrowed her eyes at him, ordering him in a single look not to bring up the car accident and her dead family. "Well, suddenly, you'd come into your own. And your political intuition was never wrong. It was eerie. The whole thing left Richard's head spinning. You know he never stopped being mad that you'd run off with someone who didn't even seem your type. No offense," he gave a nervous laugh and glanced up at Adama. Wally seemed to shrink back on the couch under the older man's intense stare.

"It's my ring on her finger," Bill replied simply, but Laura felt the possessiveness radiating off him. She allowed it. He'd never been the overly jealous or possessive type, but there were definite times he wanted the world to know exactly who she'd chosen. There were also times she felt the exact same way. He was hers, so she reached up and covered his hand with her own. She considered Wally's words; no, Bill hadn't been her type at all with his authoritarianism and rougher looks. Wally was also right that in those early years she'd had so many defenses in place around her heart that no one could get close. She'd refused to open herself and risk being hurt. Richard had been kept at a safe distance, unlike she and Bill who were pulled together like a pair of magnets. But in Bill, Laura had found deeper love than she'd ever imagined, so yes, she proudly wore his ring.

"Did you know how we thought about staging an intervention to protect you from a stranger's intentions?" Wally asked with a dry laugh. Bill bristled behind her, appalled at the idea of Richard and Wally protecting his wife from him.

"It never would have made a difference. Now where are you going with this?" Laura asked.

"He wasn't a stranger was he? Richard told me he was in part of your future tale too. Suddenly, the story clicks. It all makes sense now. The things you used to predict, the man you married, and this Fleet. You both knew about the attacks."

Laura looked up at Bill who held Evie with one arm while his other hand rested on her shoulder. Her story seemed too incredulous for Richard to have dared to share it with others, and she found herself rather miffed at his neglect to mention having told Wally. Laura swallowed hard and looked back at her old colleague. She shook her head, wondering what she could say to the man now grieving for his lost family again.

"Just tell me! We were friends once, dammit!" Her Vice President's outburst caused Laura to jump again.

"We knew," she admitted quietly. Her nerves were fraying and she desperately needed a good night's sleep. She pressed on. "We worked for years to prevent this from happening again…" Wally jumped to his feet, cutting off Laura's explanations. He stared down at her while Laura looked up at him sadly. She watched him rub a weary hand over his face.

"Marcie was your friend, Laura. Frak… you were at our wedding. You knew my children. They're all dead and you're telling me you knew about the attacks and didn't tell us? Didn't help them?"

"We tried to stop it," Bill groused, itching to step between them and prevent his stinging words from reaching Laura. The Fleet had been denetworked. The President had been informed. The defense grid remained uncompromised. Sketches of the known Cylons were released to prevent their infiltration into sensitive positions. The calculating machines simply found a new plan to annihilate them. What did people want from them? For all Wally's talk of them being labeled Zeus and Hera, Laura and Bill remained fallible humans.

"We did our best," Laura whispered and felt the weight of grief settle on her shoulders for all their people had lost. "I've always done my best."

"Sure looks like it," Wally snapped as he looked at the newborn Bill held. He turned back to Laura. Wally's accusation sliced right through her and into her heart. Her stomach rolled and for a moment she felt like she might have been sick if she'd eaten anything that day. She forced herself to breathe as Wally kept speaking. "You should have told me. Marcie could be here now. But they're all…" Laura felt hot tears pricking her eyes as she remembered her dead friend. She'd tried. What did people want from her? She tried to remember it was also Wally's grief talking, but it was lost under the anger he directed at her. "That Cylon Raptor pilot, Lieutenant Valerii, and her sister copy that pregnant Cylon in sickbay, you trust them because of all these damn secrets you know. Right?" Wally asked slowly.

"Yes," Laura sighed. She felt too tired to get to her feet and face Wally head on. "But they've proven their worth here too. And you heard what the Admiral said to the press. If we thought them a genuine threat, they'd be eliminated without question."

"Adar thought he could make friends with the Cylons and prevent all this. But they committed genocide under the guise of those Peace Accords. And now you're trusting some Cylons. They're all dangerous. They should all be killed."

"It's complicated."

"No. It's not. And it seems to me knowledge of the future doesn't change it. You've known this was coming and this is the best we could do?"

"You should see what we could have been left with," Laura said sadly. Their survivors seemed impossibly high compared to the other timeline, and they had ships numbering in the triple digits. A shadow of the Colonial Military Fleet survived. They had stockpiled resources to keep their people alive. They'd established Fleet Security to keep the peace on ships and the black market remained under control. How could she explain how desperate things had once seemed? One had to live it. "Wally, this is better than the future we once had. Trust me."

"No, thanks. I'm done following Richard and you. Your plans didn't work. So, I'm going to run for office. I'm going to run for President in the upcoming elections. We need something new. We need not to rely on any Cylon ever. And we need to know that the military isn't controlling the civilian government through you." Wally looked down at her. "You don't have to run, Laura."

Laura felt a strange sense of foreboding at his declaration, but she pushed the memories of another election back. "I have a job to do, Mr. Vice President, and I will do it for as long as I am able. Thank you for informing me of your intentions," Laura said coldly and finally stood, a clear indication that his time was done. They shared a hard look with each other, now two opponents sizing each other up. Without further ado, Wally turned and stepped out of the hatch.

Laura turned and reached for Evie, and Bill handed their child to her but kept an arm wrapped around her for support. She knew he felt her sadness and anger, but she felt that familiar desire to become detached from everything as she sometimes had. She cradled Evie against her chest and felt bitter at the time she spent away from her daughter because she had to keep the Fleet going. Bill seemed to sense her thoughts.

"You don't have to run, Laura. We've been down this road already. It's not fair to be asked to do it again…"

"Was it really fair the first time?" she asked. "I gave them everything once, Bill. I was dying and I chose to live my last months all for them and then they chose Baltar because he promised them a stupid, shortsighted fantasy on New Caprica. Now another election? I've been pulled back in so many times now. When is enough enough?"

She so rarely stopped to consider the cost saving humanity had on her own soul; even after they betrayed her by choosing a scam artist's folly over her devotion, Laura stayed with them. Bill shook his head. "Laura, you've earned the right to step away if you want. I don't want to lead the Fleet with anyone else, but if you've had enough then you've had enough."

"And yet,

I still believe I have a duty to them." Laura looked up at him with a soft smile. "You know, Wally's right. You changed me. Having a husband and children, that kind of connection once seemed too deep and too powerful to risk. The idea of losing any of you… it scares me more than anything. I don't think I can trust anyone else to lead the Fleet, no matter how self-assured that sounds. I have to run no matter how much I don't want to."

…

Laura's panicked gasp woke Bill from the light sleep he'd fallen into after taking his night shift when baby Evelyn called. He'd jumped up when her hungry whimpers started, and for a brief moment he lingered on how insane it was that people his and Laura's age—and with their jobs—were going another round with parenthood. But he loved his daughter and was delighted to have her with them. He'd tried to keep quiet so that her exhausted mother could sleep. Bill had hoped tonight Laura would finally sleep through the night, but he heard the change in her breathing and some groggy mumbling. She'd awoken.

She squirmed next to him, her movements slow and careful as she tried not to disturb him. Her fingers brushed against his chest as she maneuvered her hands. A quick study of her movements and he realized she was searching for something. Her hands poked and touched her flesh as her breath hitched.

His heart dropped when he realized how her hands were searching her breasts, examining them for any sign of a tumor. He placed his hands on hers, stilling her movement. She gasped, startled by his touch.

"You're alright, Laura," he promised and opened his eyes to look at her. They'd heard the doctor pronounce her healthy after delivering Evie. Cottle never passed up the chance to give her a thorough exam. Despite that knowledge, her distress hung palpably in the air.

"It still haunts my dreams," she admitted.

"Dreams or visions?" he asked carefully. Her unconscious world too often proved a dangerous beacon of things to come. After being married to her for so long, his atheist mind couldn't deny that simple truth. Laura looked away, aware that her dreams of cancer weren't the most reassuring bits of information for him to hear. Bill noticed how she hated bringing him any distress by mentioning her former curse. He realized she herself abhorred thinking about that aspect of her former life.

"No, no. Just another regular nightmare," she said even as her body shuddered. "It's nothing, Bill. Go back to sleep."

An audible growl of frustration escaped. He really didn't like it when she tried to dismiss him from caring for her. She sometimes did it anyway when she suppressed her feelings as if she could push them into a box and store them away like files hidden in Galactica's archives. But Bill Adama had survived seventeen years of marriage to the worlds' most frustrating, strong-willed women by being able to read her well and knowing when to press and when to retreat and run for the high hills like a scared Cylon.

"It's not nothing to you," Bill replied in a kind, low voice. With the utmost care, he touched her. "There's nothing there, Laura. You're safe."

"Am I? Are we?" she asked, now allowing him a glimpse of her vulnerability; it had been right to push. During the last timeline, it took a long time for her to accept his love but she'd started letting down the walls around her heart and allowed him to care for her even in her moments of deep vulnerability. Even so, there were still times when she slipped into her old self-contained habits. He knew she trusted him with so much, but he was fully aware that she was also holding in a lot of feelings: between her feelings about his amnesia and Wally's betrayal, he could practically feel Laura's thoughts spiralling as she lay beside him.

"If not, we'll face it together," he rasped and laced their fingers together. Laura finally looked up at him and he could see a calm settling over her; they both knew there was nothing they could not solve together. She shuffled over to cuddle against him and he wrapped both of his arms around her. There was a stab of pride in his heart at being allowed to cherish and shelter this strong woman who rarely asked for anything. Out of his many achievements and accolades, it was earning Laura's belief in his ability to care for her and their family that would always stand above the rest.

He felt her breathing slow down as his calloused hands stroked up and down her spine. He chuckled when Laura let out a little hum when he brushed the sensitive spot on the small of her back. So predictable, he thought. It was the same place he'd found and reached for while walking through the corridors of Galactica, dancing at state banquets on Caprica, and while sneaking through tent city on New Caprica. A sensitive little spot that sent shivers up her spine and caused her to give him a secretive little smile every time he rested his hand there.

So he rested his hand there and her rigid body slowly relaxed at the familiar gesture. Taking notice of her body, he noticed how much weight she'd lost. Her body should still show signs of carrying a baby, but she seemed small.

"Are you alright, Laura?' he asked but when he looked down he could only see her mass of red hair which gleamed copper in the little light.

"I am now," she said, lifting her head to meet his eyes and smile. She rested her chin on his chest.

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, Bill. After everything, the only thing I'm ever sure of is this," she told him, leaning forward to kiss his nose.

"If you want to talk—"

"I have a better idea," she murmured and kissed him. He wondered if she realized how she traced the line where his old scar had been. Heat gathered under his skin when she continued to kiss his neck. He gave a quiet groan from behind clenched teeth. His stared at the curly hair he loved so much while his hands started moving again of their own accord. She was talented and attentive, and it was as potent a combination as ever, making him lose his mind. "Something to get our minds off everything."

"And what might that be, Madame President?" he asked and smiled when Laura nipped the skin of his neck at his use of formal address.

"A good frak," she said bluntly. After a surprised bark of laughter, Bill supposed his second greatest achievement would be his ability to keep up with his redheaded vixen wife and keep her thoroughly satisfied. After running her fingers through his hair, she brought his mouth to hers for a teasing, featherlight kiss. His 'naive little schoolteacher' had very few reservations about wanting sex or him, and he loved her lack of inhibitions. That and, well, the fact that she found him desirable. Still, they hadn't been intimate since Evie had come along. She needed time to recover.

"Are you—"

"Yes, I'm sure. I want to feel nothing but you," she said. She gave him a tired but saucy grin meant to entice. "Now, are you up to the challenge, Admiral?"

He briefly wondered if it was a good idea and held her challenging gaze for a moment.

"Laura?" he asked in a gravelly voice.

"What are you waiting for?" she teased, and he dove in to kiss her until his lungs burned for air. It had been another long night and he was tired and old, but there was no way he wasn't picking up the gauntlet she'd thrown down. After a quick breath, he was on her in a heartbeat. He wouldn't deny her when she looked at him with those needy green eyes. Besides, randy women didn't intimidate him.

...

She didn't want to talk. She wanted to feel. To Laura, his touch was a balm for her turbulent emotions. She wanted to push her dark thoughts to the side and be overwhelmed in a better way. She had always enjoyed frakking, so what better way to release some of the feelings that she was trying so hard to control? His soothing touch on her breast, his caress against her back, those feelings were what she wanted. No talking, she decided. He didn't need unnecessary distress, and she'd rather feel close to him.

Intelligent and pragmatic, Laura knew that sex could only temporarily banish her darker thoughts, but she craved connection to the man she loved. Even in the wake of her nightmare, she found him so powerful that her troubles faded into a misty background from where she was convinced they couldn't bother her. She teased her husband into another passionate kiss, and Bill responded to her, kissing her lips, her jaw, and her neck.

Her longtime partner knew exactly how to work her up, but Laura was slow to feel the usual heat surging through her veins. Still, she pulled his head to the curve of her neck to whisper words of encouragement into his ear. Holding him close was what she needed to remind her that they weren't trapped in that other timeline, and he was safe with her again. She touched him as she knew he liked until he pulled at her nightdress, tugging it over her arms and discarding it on the floor. Yanking and pushing at his clothes, she didn't stop until they were both naked. Heat flowed in waves off him and she pressed against him, wanting as much contact as possible. Her devoted husband closed his arms around her like an indomitable fortress.

Laura swallowed whatever seemed stuck in her throat as her husband looked at her with absolute love and passion in his gaze. His thumb rubbed small circles right over where she'd dreamed her tumor had returned. For a moment, her nightmare flashed in her mind: her cancer had come back and she was running through the ship, trying to find her husband. She shuddered, remembering how her screams of his name had echoed against the corridors, but he hadn't appeared.

She arched into him and let every part of her body feel how solid and real he was. Despite her twinges of uncertainty, he made her feel good and she willingly opened herself to him while trying to ignore the darker thoughts pushing in on their moment. Instead, she focused on the way his thick hair felt in her fingers, tugging at the strands in the way that drove him wild.

He responded by easily flipping her onto her back. He groaned against her lips when she whispered his name and raked her nails along his shoulder blades. But when his hands moved lower, she felt strangely disconnected, like he was touching someone else. Her body wasn't quite keeping up with what her mind wanted. It reminded her of the times she was dying and her body refused to cooperate with their lovemaking. In the next moment, the feeling had passed as he handled her body with expert precision.

Bill leaned over her and kissed her forehead, nuzzling her brow with a seemingly infinite affection.

"I love you so, so much. You know that, right?" she asked in a husky voice.

"I love you too," he said before he continued to caress and love her body. Whatever else, this felt right and good, and she focused on showing him the deep feelings in her heart she couldn't always put in words. Tracing the planes of his face, over the scars she knew by heart, she promised that she felt ready. Their eyes locked as he leaned over her, and Laura could almost tangibly feel the connecting linking them forever. He joined to her with a tenderness that tore at her heart. She'd been too impatient, but she covered her whimper of pain with a small hum. He moved slowly, wanting to be gentle with her and making her feel he believed he held the greatest treasure. Feeling tears welling up, she hid her face in his neck and hoping that he didn't notice her rollercoaster of emotions. She let her hands glide over his muscled back, savoring the sensation between them. For Laura, the knowledge that this dangerous, sometimes harsh and unemotional man bared himself to her, chose her to be his lover, his support, and wife, was as erotic as his touch. She surrendered to just being together. Her heart thundered in her chest. Each move he made was a reminder that they were alive and they were happy. He read her well and whispered caring endearments in the deep voice that drove her mad. It was as if he knew she needed an extra push to fall over the edge.

When they were both spent, he rolled them to their sides, but didn't release her. She felt his eyes searching her and she realized that tears were running down her cheeks.

"Laura? Are you ok? Hurt or—"

"No, no. I'm ok," she promised, in a sleepy, sex-roughened voice. "I'm not sure that I'll make sense tonight, Bill," she managed, and silently begged him to not ask questions. In his eyes she saw how he understood her and she didn't resist when he drew her back into his arms and pulled the blankets over them.

"Alright," he said, willingly giving her what she asked for. She situated herself into her favorite spot against him. Resting together was intimate, comforting, fulfilling. The real world might spiral out of control and present infinite dangers, but here in Bill's arms, nothing felt amiss. She didn't want to leave.

"You do worry me sometimes, Laura," he sighed as they drifted off to sleep.

…

Despite Wally grumbling that such a meeting would have been more properly held on Colonial One, the leaders of the Fleet gathered together in Galactica's Ward Room. The most formal and decorated room on Galactica, with the flags of the Twelve Colonies around the room, it provided an acceptable backdrop for the meeting. Wally just didn't appreciate the preference given to Galactica. Arranged in a half-circle around the raised briefing dais, they listened to one another's reports. Battlestar Commanders read their readiness sitreps while Chief Presidential Aide Keikeya summarized the condition of the civilian Fleet on behalf of the President.

Bill Adama boiled the status reports down to one conclusive point—the Fleet needed to get on the move again. When the disease temporarily thinned the military ranks, there remained no better option than to hide in the nebula. Hidden by the gasses, the ships remained there as the Fleet returned to operating strength.

Bill took care to praise Admiral Cain's decision to preserve the Fleet and not to press on, jumping until they were detected by Cylons. If the enemy found them when the military couldn't even put a full CAP in the air, it would have meant game over. The decision surprised him, but Cain seemed to be turning a new and far more humane leaf. Cain responded to her commanding officer with a crisp nod of acknowledgement at his praise, but her lips nearly twitched into a full smile. For a moment, Bill saw the orphaned Tauron girl behind the Admiral's pins whose brutality and ruthlessness allowed little room for human connection. Still, when Cain glanced at the President, Bill suspected he'd missed a few heated rows between the two iron-willed women while he'd been out of commission. It would have been a clash to behold, especially as both remained standing at the end. He enjoyed watching someone realize that Laura was made of sterner stuff than people gave her credit for.

"—corrosive nature of the gases is the cause of the compromised hull integrity in over half the ships of the Fleet," Gaeta reported as he gestured to a diagram of their hideout's noxious composition. While obscuring them from DRADIS, their nebula proved to have its downfalls. Gaeta continued, "Hull breaches have forced several ships to evacuate their affected compartments. Micro-breaches are also threatening several more ships. The longer we stay here the worse the effects are going to get," he concluded and stood at parade rest, waiting for questions or dismissal.

"Thank you, Mr. Gaeta," Bill dismissed him and Gaeta shuffled over the plush blue carpet and took his seat in the U shape setup. Bill contemplated the briefing and his officer. Galactica's Officer of the Watch proved as capable and efficient as ever. Even though he appeared to be nothing more than an eager officer who performed each duty asked to him with the eagerness of any junior officer trying to prove himself, Bill remembered how people were capable of anything. Bill recalled the mutiny in sharp clarity due to recent events, yet the kid before him wasn't so disillusioned and hurt to be capable of betrayal. Bill glanced at some of the attendants: Admiral Cain, Gaius Baltar, Felix Gaeta, and now Wallace Grey. Why can't the Cylons be the only threat we need to worry about, Bill wondered.

Commander Ziegler, the Valkyrie's CO, cleared his throat before speaking. "So it seems that when we come down to it, the time has come to cut and run," he said. He flipped through the typed briefings prepared for the meeting. "You know, by a quick calculation, most of our FTL drives are capable of making the jump straight to Fallback Omega."

"Fallback Omega?" Wally asked. Bill sat up straighter, folding his hands on the desk in front of him and gave Ziegler a withering look. Ziegler had the decency to shift uncomfortably in his seat and drop his eyes back down to the reports when he realized that, until just then, the Vice President was unaware of Fallback Omega. At Wally's question, the room fell so silent they could hear the ruckus of viper jocks knocking each other around in the corridors.

Bill inclined his head toward Laura in order to speak with his President, but he noted how she appeared frozen although her hands clasped in her lap quaked. The muscle in her jaw twitched, a tick he picked up on during their relationship that let him know when was forcing herself to stay composed. He didn't blame her. With smaller, slower ships in the Fleet they wouldn't have arrived at Fallback Omega until after the elections. They had planned on the planet that once spelled trouble being safely unknown until after the presidential elections.

"I know it's not what we wanted, but I'm not sure we have a choice," he murmured close to her ear, and tried not to notice how tangled her chestnut waves appeared.

"Choice?" she huffed but her dry voice was so low only he could hear.

"Fallback Omega, Madame President? Admiral?" Wally pushed impatiently.

"Tell him," she ordered. Bill could have decked Wally. He wanted to offer his wife a solution that didn't drag their Fleet back to that frakkin' planet until the fickle populace cast their votes. He summoned his self control, ready to explain, but fixed Wally with a stare that pinned the man to his chair and kept him quiet. Laura took a deep breath of recycled air as her knuckles turned white from how tightly she clasped her hands. Her face remained devoid of emotion though and she looked coldly at Wally while Bill spoke.

Bill informed Wally and the other civilians present—people like Laura's aides, Billy and Tory—about Fallback Omega, the hidden military base beyond the Red Line of known space. While he obfuscated many of the true details only those who remembered the previous timeline would understand, Bill Adama spun a convincing tale. His story included some scientists who explored beyond the Red Line and accidentally discovered a hidden planet during an FTL malfunction. The Defense Secretary Hectar, believing in the inevitability of a Cylon attack, realized the tactical advantage of a planet not unreasonably far from the Twelve Colonies. He and Adama, the highest military ranked person who remembered the other timeline, concocted a plan to establish a small outpost there. Should the worst happen, humanity could regroup and resupply at Fallback Omega before deciding either to counterattack or to find a new home. Bill left out how he and the Defense Secretary hid the plan from Adar, using the facade of a washed-up Admiral to hide the mission from all put those handpicked for their trustworthiness. Under Adama's command, ships were dispatched to establish the base and a selection of flag officers informed of its existence. Before more officers could be told, the Cylons had attacked.

"What the actual frak," Wally whispered and rubbed a hand over his face. "The military sat on this bit of information and didn't let as many civilian captains as possible know about it? What were you—"

"Clearly we're thinking of the survival of humanity," Commander Tigh cut in, standing by his longtime friend and losing patience for the Vice President. Saul shook his head and covered his mouth to smother the patronizing laugh threatening to bubble up while muttering something about pampered civilians.

"But—"

"You think a bunch of civvies can keep their mouths shut? When some Cylon bastards came ripping apart their ships and personnel, a civilian captain wouldn't have sold that bit of information to the Cylons to try and save their ass?" Cain hissed.

"There are enough Colonial captains who would turn over their own mothers when Centurions came calling," Ziegler added.

"It was a military decision," Bill said.

"Someone has the support of the military," Wally muttered so that only the Fleet Admiral and the President could hear. His Presidential bid hadn't been welcomed by the military who didn't welcome giving up the strategic value of nepotism.

Laura squared her shoulders and addressed the room. "We'll evacuate the smaller ships. As soon as it's done, we'll make the jump before too many of our ships are damaged," she informed them in an authoritative voice. Her sharp tone effectively ended the near-fight brewing between the members of the meeting. She turned to Billy. "Get a list of ships that can make the jump and we'll coordinate evacuating the other ships."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Fine. Well, now that Fallback Omega has taken care of the Fleet's immediate problem, I think the Quorum would appreciate it if we addressed the elephant in the Fleet. Let's talk about the Cylon experiment in Galactica's sickbay," Wally said as if causally igniting a stick of dynamite. Bill narrowed his eyes at Wally, wondering how long he'd kept this now-revealed bitterness contained.

Bill reached out and took a long drink of the water in front of him, giving him a moment to think. The water felt cool and refreshing, but come civilians claimed it tasted sour from the recycling process. In his opinion, civilians imagined all kinds of things. Too bad there was no way to convince the Fleet that they'd imagined the hybrid child. Between the leaked information and Laura's press conference, Pandora's box was irreversibly opened. Laura had once warned him that once released, stories risked taking a life of their own, like birds in the air. Laura beat him to an answer.

"Admiral Adama and I will make a decision about the baby in due course."

"How long will due course take? I heard last night it has born premature. If the baby survives, what is the plan? And it's my belief, Madame President, those present, including our Cylon expert there, should decide what to do with it."

The room broke into argument while Laura appeared to listen. Bill noticed out of the corner of his eye how Laura's hands moved over her stomach. They twisted in the fabric of her blouse and Bill realized how close to home Wally's words hit. He sensed that she was picturing their own premature child who struggled after being born so early. Laura never explicitly said it, but he was aware of the guilt and anger she felt at her body not holding onto their child for longer and irrationally blamed herself when she thought about how tiny and quiet Evie remained. To be fair, she hadn't been talking about much recently, and Bill frowned.

"What are you suggesting? That we throw it out an airlock?" Baltar shrieked.

"Are we really suggesting tossing a baby out an airlock, though?" Even Cain appeared queasy at that idea. Wonders never ceased.

"That is what our President supposedly does with Cylons!"

"If I wanted to toss the Cylon out an airlock I'd do it. But, that's not on the table for the baby," Laura said evenly.

"Good to know infanticide isn't on the table," Baltar growled and he threw a glare at Laura that remained unnoticed. She spared the scientist very little attention.

"Cylons went through a lot of trouble to create this baby," Ziegler pointed out.

"Do I have to point out it's not a baby, it's a machine," Wally said.

"Half machine, half human!" Baltar countered.

"There's another factor to consider here. There's a chance Cylons are hidden in the Fleet. The disease was artificial, it had to come from somewhere. Their Fleet keeps finding us. We might know what they look like, but who's to say we've found them all."

"They figure out this hybrid's been born, they'll make a play for it." Cain said, her voice cutting through the others.

"There's plenty of civilians who'd like to get their hands on it too," Wally growled.

Laura glanced at Bill, as if to point out how she'd tried to avoid this in the last timeline. She raised a tired eyebrow, asking him if he had a better idea than her last one. He dipped his head slightly, his only acknowledgment that he saw the benefit of the choice she made in the previous timeline to kidnap and hide Hera. He realized her attempts at protecting Hera had at least been pragmatic. Laura broke eye contact first, and he noticed her hands still resting on her stomach.

"I'm not separating a child from its mother until given a damn compelling reason to do so. For now, I believe she can be kept protected on Galactica," she held up a finger to Wally, cutting off his impending protest and telling him to keep quiet until she was done. "I will concede to monthly briefings on her state to the military and the Quorum. Now if that's all? Shall we return to our ships?"

Laura stood; their President was clearly done with the meeting. Following protocol, the rest of them rose as well, but they'd also had their fill of bickering for the day. When Laura turned and left first, Bill wasted no time in following her, surprised by her decision.

"Laura," he called out, catching up to her in the corridor. She turned, but didn't quite meet his gaze. She studied the passing personnel who passed by the dull grey walls.

"I should get to Colonial One," she muttered. "Can't spend all my time on Galactica."

"That was a big change you made."

"A mother shouldn't be separated from her child. Besides, you came to trust Sharon, and we know Hera is a good child."

Bill noticed the other personnel filtering out of the Ward Room and coming toward them. Wally would be in their midst, and Bill felt his nerves tingle in suppressed irritation.

"I'll walk you to your shuttle," he said, gesturing for her to continue walking. Laura folded her arms, but nodded and strode down the corridor. He filled the silence with a private report on Sharon's secret raptor mission to the last known location of the Original Hybrid. He'd sent her there once the data disk they'd retrieved from the archives was decoded and it confirmed the orb's last known location was with that Hybrid. According to the last timeline, the Original Hybrid should have been at the remnants of a supernova, but Sharon found no waiting Basestar.

"So we're also no closer to finding the Orb," Laura sighed, and fell silent, not offering any further conversation on her own. Bill tried not to study her too much out of the corner of his eye.

"Have I gone bald again Bill?" she asked when he was caught staring.

"Not funny, Laura," he huffed, although he realized how much he missed her laugh. She hadn't even giggled much recently. "Are you sure you're—"

"I'm fine, Bill. Just thinking about Hera," she paused at the ladder that would lead her to her waiting shuttle. "Shouldn't they get a chance to be a family, like we did?"

"We still are."

A smile finally bloomed onto Laura's face, softening her previous tension. "Yes, we are."

"I understand why you did it last time. I was angry you didn't tell me and angry that it happened."

"You're too damn noble sometimes, you know that, right?" she asked and after giving him a look over her glasses, she turned and ascended the ladder before he could retort. Her long legs in a pencil skirt climbing the ladder in front of him didn't create conducive conditions for their usual repartee. Jarred out of his starring by the scamper of arriving footsteps, he moved out of the way when Billy came rushing around the corner with a briefcase in hand. The two men exchanged glances.

"Keep an eye on her?" Bill asked in a low voice.

"Always," Billy said, blushing as he started up the ladder next.

…

For two days Laura endured the incessant yammering of ship captains as they abandoned ships deemed too unstable for continued use. People complained about the increasingly cramped conditions of the Fleet. In response, Laura conducted a personal survey of the worst affected ships and worked with captains to find solutions. She believed in observing conditions firsthand, and appreciated having the strength to do such tours. She'd just neglected to mention her planned visits to the Admiral.

Bill hated what he believed to be her unnecessarily putting herself in danger, and she argued that her trips were a necessary gesture from their leader. They argued. He'd phoned her secret service commander and personally told them to keep her safe. Laura had snatched the phone and warned him that he verged on being overbearing. In her mind, she acknowledged her recent odd behavior and knew he only acted out of concern. She noticed that the more ordinary she tried to act, the stranger she felt. At times it felt like she was playing an elaborate game of pretend as she acted out what a president should do. As a result the people saw a poised and caring president. Laura felt like she was constantly keeping her emotions in check. She believed keeping busy at least prevented her mind from having the time to reach for lurking dark thoughts.

Without fail, at the end of each day she returned to Galactica with frayed nerves. Just like the previous two days, Laura's heels clicked along Galactica's deck as she headed home. Throughout her body every muscle throbbed from being wound tighter than a drum. That day as she toured less familiar ships, every strange noise made her jump. Guess I am paranoid, she thought. What is wrong, this isn't me!

The papers commended her visits. The papers condemned her previous secrecy concerning Hera. The polls showed Wally had popular ideas. The polls proved the people believed in her. Her life jolted her around like a rollercoaster. Her mind swirled like a vortex of gale-force winds and punishing debris.

One foot in front of the other, Laura told herself. Controlling each breath, she stroked Evie's soft tuft of hair having collected her daughter from Maya. She counted her daughters fingers and toes over and over again, and it grounded her for the moment.

Laura kicked off her heels the second she stepped through the hatch and her aching body embraced all the sensory cues that told her she was home and safe. Only a few steps in the hatch, she dropped her briefcase and breathed in the musky smell of leather and books. Careful of the baby strapped to her chest, she eased out of her blazer and fully intended to drop it on the plush carpet on her way to the rack, creating a haphazard trail from the hatch to the bed.

"Long day at the office, huh?" A woman's teasing voice caused Laura to gasp and jump, startling the baby. Evelyn squirmed against her startled mother, while Laura pinched the bridge of her nose. Her heart raced against her chest from the unexpected people in their quarters.

"Kara," she sighed and looked at the three people sitting at the table who'd gone unnoticed. Lee shot Kara a warning look while Bill's worried gaze swept over her. He stood in order to make his way to her. Swatting her husband's hands away from the baby, Laura swallowed hard and hoped her heart would settle down soon. "It's good to see you both," Laura said and gave Lee and Kara a smile. A mother should be happy to see her children, and it sounded better than the irritable remarks her high-strung mind wanted to make.

"The kids have some news," Bill said, guiding her toward the table.

"You wanna tell her or shall I?" Kara asked, looking at Lee.

"Clearly, you have such a way with words."

"You know I'm talented," Kara laughed, and Laura kept the smile plastered on her face. "So," their hot-shot viper pilot said and turned to her. "After that stupid amnesia disease, we were talking. We should be seizing every moment we can in this timeline, especially if that frakkin' planet is coming up."

"We made mistakes in the other timeline. It was good to look back though, and talk through some things that happened," Lee said. Kara blushed, as if embarrassed at the admission she'd talked through her problems. "So we decided it's time to stop wasting time and set the date to get married. We decided on the day after tomorrow, before we jump to that 'frakkin' planet,'" Lee said and turned his blue eyes to his stepmother whose smile had become very genuine.

"I'm happy for you both," she said.

"Neither of us could be prouder," Bill added.

"And you'll give me away?" Kara asked, giving her pseudo-father the biggest pair of puppy dog eyes Laura had ever seen.

"Of course!"

"And you'll come to the bachelorette party tomorrow?"

"Come again?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Is something wrong with Laura? I love hearing back from my lovely, lovely readers. Hope ya'll are doing well.


	63. The Night Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my usual update. Not much wholesome and virtuous here.

Laura Roslin, President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, prophetic leader of the Pythian Prophecy, wife to the Admiral of the Fleet, and mother of a baby daughter, was flinging herself into the shenanigans of the bachelorette party with the bravado of a woman who disliked backing down from a challenge. Cloud Nine’s well-stocked bar allowed Kara’s group to guzzle down many sweet and fruity concoctions. Laura’s tastebuds tingled with citrusy goodness from the lemon flavored something-or-other she’d snatched off the counter when Ellen blithely mentioned they also had water. At least she’d been invited; Ellen just showed up at the door ready to paint the Fleet red, pulled by the prospect of booze, partying, and girl talk.

Thankfully their group was sequestered in an ostentatious private suite on Cloud Nine. The luxury liner’s generosity was no doubt prompted upon seeing the President and Admiral Cain standing in the group. Cain had ended up corralled into their number following a gutsy invite on the hangar deck of Galactica where she’d been leaving after a meeting with Adama.

The antics of Kara and her friends, who reminded Laura far too much of her departed sisters, tempted Laura to throw caution to the wind and enjoy herself. How was she supposed to act anyway? There were no etiquette guidelines for a prophetic president’s behaviour at hen night. Wasn’t she due some shenanigans like any normal future step-mother-in-law-of-the-bride attending her future step-daughter-in-law’s “last night of freedom”? Laura rolled her eyes at the absurd notion that Kara would act any differently after marriage.

“Let’s party!” Kat yelled, preparing another round of drinks and lining them up on the private bar. Louanne ‘Kat’ Katraine slammed her hands on the counter causing Laura to jump. “Alright ladies. Let’s do this.”

“Only the best night for one of our own!” The pilots grabbed fresh drinks. Laura took another too, deciding that tonight she’d try and forget her troubles.

“To Kara Thrace. Also known as Starbuck, the top gun, the big damn hero, and... god!” They cheered, toasted, and drank. _Also known as Harbinger of Death,_ Laura added with her own sip. She clutched the cup in her hand and watched everyone’s movements with the eyes of a loving mother and the wariness of an injured cat.

“Been to one of these before?” Cain’s voice so close to her ear sent Laura’s heart racing in her chest. They were settled against a wall to watch the spectacle. At the moment, Racetrack was taking a no-hands shot off Starbuck’s stomach, but Kara’s bubbling laughter teetered the glass back and forth. They watched the raptor pilot miss the shot and face-plant into Kara, sending the liquor and glass clattering to the floor.

“A few,” Laura chuckled as pilots booed the blushing Racetrack. She remembered Marcie’s wild night before marrying Wally. Her face fell, and she lifted her drink to her lips to cover the melancholy. “Politicians don’t get invited to the fun parties.”

“I didn’t have many close friends on the Colonies who would invite me to something like this,” Cain admitted and swirled the drink in her hand and poked at the paper umbrella like it was an unidentifiable object. “Besides, hard-assed Admirals usually don’t get invited to these parties either.”

“Some people like hard-assed Admirals.”

“You don’t say?” Cain snorted.

 _What kind of timeline is this_ , Laura thought catching the innuendo while the Admiral with psychopathic tendencies smirked. “Yes. Well... You had to notice the star-struck look these girls gave you. After all, you’re the highest ranking woman in the military.”

Cain grimaced. “Well, if they’re desperate enough to make me out to be a damned role-model, I should at least teach these children how to do the body shot properly. This is embarrassing.”

 _I’ve gone insane,_ Laura reasoned. That remained the only logical explanation to the sight of Cain asking for a volunteer in order to show ‘you nuggets how it’s done.’ Ellen volunteered, and Laura witnessed the hard-assed Admiral and Ellen school the pilots. Kara looked absolutely chagrined and delighted.

“So, Kara, what made you decide to snap up our flyboy Apollo off the market?” Ellen asked as she hopped off the table after the demonstration. “Because I wouldn’t have minded taking him out for a ride. I assume that’s not an option anymore...”

“Umm... no, no. It's not. Ever.”

“What if people keep eyeing him?” Dee asked with a tipsy giggle.

“Looking is fine,” Kara replied with a shrug. “Anything else and people will feel my right hook. To each their own if that’s worth the risk. Aren’t you taken Dee?”

“I’ll keep ogling those blue eyes.”

“And that well-shaped ass.”

“Sneaky glances in the head’s shower.”

“You’re not supposed to admit that!”

“We’re all spilling our secrets tonight.”

 _Oh no we aren’t_ , Laura thought with a shudder.

“This doesn’t bother you?” Kat asked over the group tittering on about the attractive features of Leeland Adama.

“Nope. It’s all mine after tomorrow. Looking will just leave you frustrated, Katraine,” Kara taunted. Laura suspected Kara took particular interest in harassing those who’d irritated her in the previous timeline.

“The whole package is a sight is a chiseled gift from the gods. Makes you just wanna…” the whole group watched dumbfounded as Ellen made grabbing motions with her hand. _Way to go too far_ , Laura thought, wondering if she could unsee Ellen’s gestures. If only Ellen could be the least of her nightmares.

Boomer, after prefacing that she preferred the man she was with, offered a toast to Apollo’s delectable derrière now being owned by their very own Starbuck. The ladies cheered, drank, and offered Kara another round of enthusiastically envious congratulations.

“So what is it, Starbuck? It’s his arms right? All that muscle?”

“A group of poets you all are,” Kara huffed, but embraced the chance to tease her fellow pilots. “We don’t have to spend all night drooling over my husband-to-be. Although, for the record, his well-muscled arms are a bonus. Maybe one day you’ll find someone strong and willing enough to pin you against a wall. You’ll see the appeal.”

“She’s got a point. It’s also part of Galen’s attractiveness,” Boomer said. She grinned while the girls winced at the image of the deck chief that invaded their mind. Ellen added her own seal of approval to the idea of being pinned to the wall. When she elaborated on her personal experience of it, everyone audibly groaned.

“Do we need to know this?” Cain asked with a face that looked like she’d sucked on a sour lemon. “I gotta be able to look those men in the face again.”

“Welcome to girl talk. It survives even the apocalypse,” Laura shrugged and decided not to share her own personal experiences of bulkheads. She acknowledged that watching the Admiral squirm might be her new favorite way to pass the evening.

“Alright you pansies,” Boomer began, “gather round. We’re playing a game. ‘Never Have I Ever’—guaranteed to get Starbuck drunk and dancing by the end, because what hasn’t she done?”

…

A thick haze of smoke hung in the air of the pilots’ rec room. Misty o-rings floated upward from the tables as Lee’s buddies smoked and enjoyed the contraband they'd procured. The pilfering pilots hadn’t been caught in the act and no one wanted to ask questions. Everyone simply enjoyed fine stogies and quality ambrosia in honor of their CAG getting married.

Lee took a long drag from his hand-rolled Aquarian cigar and listened to the sizzling sound of burning tobacco while the inhaled smoke rolled over his tongue. What a good way to spend the night, Lee decided as he closed his eyes and let his head drop back. Pushing out the smoke in rapid, deliberate bursts, his series of rings joined the sweet, musky cloud that smelled of hazelnuts and cedar wood. “Not bad, not bad,” his brothers and buddies commented before they turned their attention back to the cards on the table. A state of deep relaxation settled over the group as they concentrated on their triad hands. This night pulled out the higher and more brazen stakes, and each man wanted to win.

“Stop looking at my cards, Zak,” Lee said without needing to take his eyes off his hand. He grinned when his younger brother straightened in his seat to the chuckles of everyone at the table.

The atmosphere reminded Lee of happy weekends in his grandfather's study, when his father was off in space and his biological mother was tired of taking care of them. Joseph Adama and his grandsons would sequester themselves off in the posh study, which smelled like wood and peppercorn smoke. Lee would sip on apple juice like it was ambrosia while his grandfather taught him and Zak how to play triad by betting candies, comics, and chores. He’d fancy himself an elite Caprican lawyer who could afford the finer things in life.

“You don’t go looking at my cards either, Liam,” he grinned before raising the bet. Liam harrumphed and folded his cards. Glancing from side to side, Lee looked at his beloved brothers and decided life had turned out alright in the end. He would never forget the times during the last timeline when he wished for Zak to be alive and felt such rage and bitterness at his brother’s death that he wanted to explode. Now he had two brothers who cheered him on from his corner of the boxing ring and poked fun at him in the next second.

“I raise you all one, ahem, magazine. No sneak peaks,” Hot Dog said as he tossed a worn copy of _Nymph_ to the top of the pot. The cover promised some tantalizing visuals inside, and Lee noted Zak giving it a calculating look.

“How many condoms is that worth?” Helo asked looking down at his pile of goods to bet with.

“Six,” Liam said, earning him a glare from Bill, Zak, and Lee.

“Alright. I call. Six condoms. Bet’s to you XO, I mean, Commander.”

“Refills are on you for that slip,” Tigh growled before he tossed his cards down. “Not my hand.”

“Not the pot I wanna take the risk to win,” Bill said, folding next. Lee, Zak, Hot Dog, and Helo all looked at each other from over their cards each having called.

“Three on a run,” Helo said, laying out the cards.

“Frak.”

“Dammit.”

“Full Pyramid,” Lee said with a grin as Hot Dog and Helo sputtered on their drinks. Lee pulled the winnings toward him and plucked the magazine off the top of the pile. After taking a quick peek, he gave a long whistle. “Kara’s gonna like this. I’ll save it for the honeymoon.”

Cheers of approval rang out from some of the pilots watching the match. Zak clapped him on the back as Liam giggled. _Oh yeah, life is good_ , Lee thought, _and it will be even better after tomorrow._

Shuffling the cards, he remembered the ragging Zak and Liam gave him at finally setting a date to marry Kara and how over-the-top pleased they acted. The amnesia forced him to confront the lingering guilt he and Starbuck felt from the previous timeline, and to decide that it was time to move on. They agreed that the best way to honor the memory of that Zak, Dee, and Sam was to watch over them in this timeline while living their own lives. He did feel bad that Kara hadn't found Sam on Caprica, but they looked out for Dee and Zak.

“Let’s make these next few rounds even more interesting,” Liam said after he and Zak whispered behind Lee’s back. Lee held his breath; experience taught him to be very, very wary when they started plotting.

“It’s Lee’s bachelor party—we need to make some memories.” Lee noticed Bill now eyeing his younger sons, who merely grinned. In the other timeline such a look would have sent him and Zak running for cover. He’d changed.

“Winner of each hand gets to dare someone at the table.”

“How old are you again?” Saul asked.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“C’mon Lee, you’re marrying Starbuck. Doesn’t that require some daring?”

“No guts, no glory.”

Before Lee could decide how far he wanted the night to descend, Helo returned with a bottle of Spiced Ambrosia Gold Label. It prompted a chorus of hummed approval from the table. Saul Tigh promptly ordered the lieutenant to stop pussyfooting around and pour them all a round ASAP without spilling one god-blessed drop of the priceless liquid. Helo swayed on his feet, tipsy from previous drinks, but feeling the heat from Tigh’s gaze, he took special care to ensure that not a single drop missed.

Zak stood and called for quiet. He decided that cracking open the best booze left in existence was as good a time as ever to toast his brother.

“We are gathered here tonight to give our final respects to Lee, who will be departing the land of the bachelors in hopes of a better place. Now, as Lee’s brother, I’m supposed to sing his praises and talk about his good qualities. Unfortunately, for him I can’t sing and I won’t lie,” Zak teased and the pilots were kind enough to offer up some laughter at his joke. “But in all seriousness, Liam and I could never have asked for a better brother. You’ve always been our worst enemy and best friend all in one package. There’s no one more honorable, trustworthy, and amazing. So here’s to a long and happy marriage. May all its ups and downs happen between the sheets."

At the toast, the pilots hooted and hollered until their voices reverberated off the metal bulkheads and ears rang. They raised their glasses to Lee and they guzzled down their liquor. The bachelor of the hour, who’d turned at least three different shades of red during the speech, smiled at Zak and took his own drink. It tasted like the exotic Scorpion deserts in a bottle, all smooth spices and warmth. It made him feel relaxed and happy from his toes to the tips of his blushing ears.

“Well, if you all agree that’s the only speech, we can go ahead and add some dares to this game. What’s the worst you boys can come up with?” Lee said, feeling agreeable and buzzed. He dealt out the cards with the easy languor of overconfidence and booze. Lady luck favored him so far tonight.

Each round they continued betting: soap, candy, cubits, condoms, porn, and even a sweatshirt exchanged hands. The added bonus of the round winner receiving a no-holds-barred dare at the end gave the game even more of an edge. Pretty soon, they’d attracted quite the crowd of spectators.

Lee forced them to go around the table with their dares, unwilling to be the only font of entertainment and embarrassment. It shocked everyone when Liam won the first hand and started off the game with Helo. He challenged the Raptor ECO to belly dance around the room, and it seemed a decent enough start to the shenanigans. Not to be outdone, Helo threw his whole heart into the dare and gyrated around the room with such unashamed enthusiasm that he earned several cubits from the crowd.

He plopped back down at the table, flushed, and took a long drink. “Never let an opportunity go to waste,” he grinned as the rec room applauded his charisma. Still stigmatized for his liaison with a Cylon, Helo hadn’t much to lose, and it looked like he’d gained some fans.

The senior Adama won the next round, intent on claiming the bottle of aftershave Saul bet. The added bonus was the opportunity to dare Hot Dog. The nugget visibly shrank in his chair under the Old Man’s calculating gaze. Finally, Bill plucked a condom from Liam’s pile of winnings and tossed it to Hot Dog and ordered him to blow it up like a balloon.

Hot Dog groaned but ripped the package open and tentatively plucked the rubber out with his thumb and finger. Lee watched, admittedly shockingly fascinated, as the nugget huffed and puffed until the condom was blown up bigger than his face. Bill gave the jock a nod.

“Remember that the next time you say it's too small,” he said and the crowd jeered at Hot Dog’s stricken face. Lee shook his head, bewildered that his dad could turn even this game into a life lesson.

The room fell silent when Liam won again and turned to face Saul Tigh. 

“You don’t scare me kid. Stop trying.”

“Think I can’t come up with something good?”

“I’ll be impressed if you come up with something I haven’t done.”

Liam didn’t answer. He just slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He pushed it across the table to Saul.

“I dare you to go over and call up Aunt Ellen and have her put you on speakerphone. Then read this to her, but put some heart in it. Unless you’re too chicken...” Liam then took his hand off the paper and sat back with a massive grin on his face, clearly having thought out some challenges in advance. The men whispered with curiosity.

Tigh shrugged and didn’t bother unfolding the piece of paper. He downed his glass of ambrosia and marched over to the comm. Only after he ordered the comm officer to connect him with Cloud Nine put him through to Ellen did he open the paper.

The room stared at Commander Tigh who looked shocked, then pale, then really, really grumpy.

“I’m not saying this!” he snapped. The men turned to Liam who didn’t back down but stared right at Saul and made chicken motions with his elbows. Saul looked murderous, Bill looked worried, Zak looked proud, and Lee wondered if he might need to rescue his brothers from certain death before the night was done.

“Saulie, what is it?!” Ellen giggled, clearly drunk on the other end of the line.

“Put your heart in it,” Zak egged him on. Lee looked at his brothers and wondered if there would be anyone able to stand up with him at his wedding once Tigh was finished with them.

“Oh, how do I love thee,” Saul ground out from between clenched teeth. Realizing what was happening, several pilots snickered. “Every night I dream about you...”

 _Oh, sweet Lords of Kobol, I need more to drink,_ Lee thought. He watched Zak high-fiving Liam and several pilots ruffled his hair.

“...As if you were an archer with your hand on the bow, you shoot arrows of delight through my body...” Saul recited while glaring daggers at Liam, who looked entirely too smug.

The pilots now openly raised their glasses to Liam and laughed. “...your angel-carved face makes my heart stops…” Bill was trying so hard not to add to the laughter swelling in the room. They all heard the women screeching in excitement as Tigh recited the poem.

“...in your arms, I am home,” Saul finished, and without further ado, slammed the comm unit back down on the receiver and stomped back to the table. He glared at Liam as if he could channel the full force of his supernova-like-fury into one look in the hopes that his giggling nemesis would combust.

“You’re only walking outta here ‘cause you’re the Old Man’s son and because killing you might be an act of treason.”

“Remember to recite stuff like that to Starbuck every so often,” Zak leaned over and teased. Lee laughed it off but remembered that, despite what someone would assume if they only knew the hot-headed viper jock side of her, Kara liked poetry. Under the steely-eyed viper jock lived the heart of an artist. Maybe he would recite sappy stuff to her. She’d either smack him or frak him and either could be a lot of fun. Kara was unconventional, and Lee’s head felt fuzzy and giddy knowing she’d marry him tomorrow.

“Lee? Galactica to Lee, bet’s to you, lover-boy!” Lee returned to the cards, pulled out of his musings. He could only half-focus on the round. The alcohol made him feel warm and content, almost like he was floating in a lake under the sun. He knew he’d placed some bad bets, but didn’t seem to care. He enjoyed laughing and hanging out with his buddies.

He did come down to reality when Hot Dog won and the dare was with the Old Man. Bill Adama tried to appear as stern an Admiral of the Fleet as possible, radiating an aura of intimidation. Hot Dog, bolstered by liquid courage and the encouragement of the surrounding spectators, took a deep breath. Lee realized Hot Dog planned retaliation and hoped this didn’t get ugly.

Hot Dog looked at the crowd and then at Adama. “I dare you to...” he gulped and looked at the people for support again. “I dare you to tell us what the President’s like in bed. No lying.”

 _What’s with the frakking fascination with the President?_ Lee groaned. _Find something other than my stepmother to fantasize about. I don’t need to hear this!_

All eyes were on Adama. Lee watched his father reach out and pick up the glass of ambrosia in front of him. He swirled the amber liquid, letting it catch the light as he thought about the answer. After a deliberate drink, he set the glass back down. His blue eyes blazed like fire and Hot Dog seemed to shrink in his chair.

“She is everything a red-blooded man could ever want. Certainly better than anything you’ll ever know, Ensign Constanza.” His response met with applause and approval from the assembled pilots. Some of them dared to offer jealous remarks and raunchy suggestions. Some engaged in a curious quest for details, but Adama had pulled the stoic facade around him. Some people noticed how his mouth twitched with a smile.

“So what’s Kara like?” another pilot asked.

“Intense,” Lee muttered, picking up the next round of cards. “And I value my continued existence so that’s all you’re gonna get.”

Lee was fully aware this round the dare had come to him. He hoped to win and thus be spared whatever humiliation his darling brothers concocted. He lost. He lost badly and Zak grinned in triumph.

“I dare you to go streaking down to the hangar deck.”

“No way.”

“Liam, it’s time for us to go,” Bill said, mentioning that with the latest round he should let the younger generation descend into further debauchery without him. Besides, Liam didn’t need to be corrupted any further.

Lee looked helplessly at his father’s retreating back, knowing that the Admiral wasn’t going to approve of such blatant against-regs behavior, but he wasn’t going to stop it. Liam winked at Lee before following his father.

“Come on, Apollo, clothes off and start running!”

…

“So, I drink if I’ve done the thing?” Cain asked. Kara and Laura exchanged several bewildered glances while the pilots eagerly explained the rules to her.

“You’ll have fun! Some tamer souls don’t enjoy it because they never end up getting to drink, but I think that only applies to one or two people here,” Ellen teased as she set fresh drinks in front of everyone.

“Lords of Kobol, hear my prayers,” Kara mumbled under her breath while Laura forced herself to smile under Ellen’s pointed gaze. Most of the table would agree that Ellen’s idea of subtle teasing needed work. _I could drink her under the table if I wanted,_ Laura huffed (although her rational mind tried to whisper some sense into her). _And Just because I don’t brag to the whole damn world about my sexcapades doesn't mean I lack stories that would make even Ellen ‘Sexkitten’ Tigh blush and clutch her pretty pink pearl necklace._

“We sure this is a good idea?” Kara asked, looking around at the particular group of women gathered. Most of their faces were already flushed red from the beginning of intoxication.

“You sit back and enjoy the shower!” Boomer ordered.

“Trust us, Kara,” Kat added.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Laura shrugged with forced nonchalance. _Game on_ , she thought with a side glance to Ellen and Cain. Then again, if she started spilling her secrets, alternative timelines, Cylon torture, and cancer, she’d kill the mood. She contemplated the alcohol in her hand, and remembered getting Bill drunk and high on New Caprica. One of the good times she treasured from that planet looming on the horizon. She took a shuddering breath at the thought of New Caprica, hoping she could keep a lid on her memories. Laura ran her thumb along her wedding band, feeling the tangible proof things were different, things could change, and that they had some control over our fate.

“Bride starts! We’ll go around the table.”

“But what haven’t I done?” Kara laughed. “Okay, okay, here it goes. Never have I ever gone skinny-dipping. It’s on my bucket list.” They watched Ellen, Laura, and Kat drink. They applauded when Cain lifted the drink to her lips too, and she shifted uncomfortably, clearly a fish very much out of water.

“Never have I ever kissed a girl,” Boomer said from where she sat next to Kara. The young Raptor pilot blushed when everyone but Dualla took a drink. Boomer turned to Dualla next to her and shrugged. “Might as well?”

After the quickest peck in Colonial History, Dualla stumbled over her words. “Never, umm, never have I ever been in hack.”

“Do I take a drink for each separate time?” Kara asked when the table looked at the infamous pilot without hesitation. Under their snickers, she downed a particularly long drink and then eyed Laura. Laura maintained eye contact and took a drink herself, as if daring Kara to ask if she was drinking to Adama’s brig-throwing days or a different incident altogether.

“Never have I ever had sex in a Viper,” Cain said. Kara immediately barked in laughter and drank again.

“Every round so far, ladies!” she said, slamming her empty cup back down. A moment later, the sound of Laura setting her own cup back down sent the wheels turning in everyone’s heads.

“Madame President?” Ellen asked in complete shock.

“You haven’t?” Ellen sighed and tossed her platinum blond curls over her shoulder.

 _Play nice, Roslin,_ she warned herself as she refiled drinks.

“Never have I ever cheated on my partner,” Laura said. _That’s not playing nice Roslin,_ but she watched Kara, Ellen, Racetrack, and Dee all drink. The table listened to the ensuing proclamations that such behavior was in the past.

Ellen was next. “So how adventurous is a kindergarten teacher? Never have I ever had sex on the President’s desk,” Ellen said. Knowing she was expected to frown and act demure, Laura laughed instead. Feeling all eyes on her, Laura took a sip of her drink as primly as possible. Ellen scowled at the impressed congratulations Laura received, already having been raised in the younger women’s esteem after the Viper revelation. Out of the corner of her eye, Laura noticed Dualla setting her glass back down. Her mouth opened and closed several times and Dualla realized she’d been caught. The young comm officer picked a spot on the table to stare at.

_You don’t wanna know, Laura. You really, really, really don’t wanna know._

“...it’s just who would have thought the prim and proper President could still be adventurous at her age,” Ellen was still going on.

“Maybe you need to have a talk with Saul if you are this fascinated by my sex life.”

“I’m fine, dear. Just surprised Bill is relaxed enough with you to suggest anything kinky or that you’d agree. What would the public say?”

“Maybe she’d get more votes” Racetrack quipped.

Laura shrugged. “I know when to live a little,”

“A little?”

“A lot,” Laura giggled. _Oh Lords of Kobol, I actually ended up tipsy._ “Sometimes a whole frakkin’ lot, and that’s all I’m saying. One of the secrets to a long marriage is knowing when to keep your partner’s secrets.”

“What are some other secrets to a long marriage?” Boomer asked softly as she tilted the cup in her hand to play with the liquid. It was an act at nonchalance.

Laura contemplated the genuinely curious faces around the table. _They’re so young._ She rubbed the heels of her hands together in a futile attempt to suppress a surge of memories. _You’ve had a long, good marriage and there’s no reason to assume it suddenly will be cut short._ She smiled, admittedly in a lovingly matron-like fashion at the young pilots.

“Find someone you love and can see living a life with. Then grow and change together until the end. Be giving and accepting and build trust. And you girls remember not all intimacy is sexual, but don’t hesitate to explore and have all kinds of fun with your partner,” she said thoughtfully at the group. They shot her genuinely appreciative looks from her decent advice. _Oh great, I’ve gone and adopted all Bill’s kids,_ Laura realized.

“And you’re sure Lee’s that person for you, Kara?” Boomer asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, he is,” Kara looked thoughtful for a moment and Laura was pleased to notice a smile tugging at her lips. It was a good sign.

“What do you think marriage is gonna be like?” Kat asked as if it were some mystical thing.

“Not gonna change my life much. I’ll wake up, be amazing, shoot more Cylons out of the frakkin’ sky than you, frak someone I call my husband, and then repeat. Some variations may apply.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad.” Boomer said.

“So you and Chief?”

Boomer blushed and deflected. “Whose turn is it?”

“Never have I ever had sex in a public place!” Racetrack said and Kara, Laura, Ellen, and Dualla drank. _Yeah my desk counts as a public place, missy,_ Laura thought, giving Dee the stink eye.

“Never have I ever said the wrong name in bed.” Only Kara drank and she muttered several curses at the group.

“Never have I ever faked an orgasm,” Ellen giggled. Laura and Kara drank and awkwardly looked at each other.

“Not with Lee.”

“Not with Bill.”

“Adamas get the job done.”

“Someone shoot me?”

“Never have I ever sucked a toe,” Racetrack said, her slurred words barely understandable. _Have I lost my ability to differentiate reality from insanity?_ Laura asked as she watched Boomer and Dualla take a drink. _Don't wanna know, don't wanna know._

“Chief?” Racetrack asked.

“Not part of the game.”

“It totally was!”

“I need bleach for my brain,” Kara grumbled.

Boomer scowled, but hearing a knock at the door, she launched out of her chair. She sent a knowing look to Kat.

“Never have I ever given or received a lap dance,” Kat said. Only Cain and Ellen drank, but before either could feel too triumphant, Boomer opened the door. Kat dashed to the sound system in the corner of the room.

“Time to change that, Kara! Here’s to the hottest shot on Galactica getting married!”

The music from the loudspeaker pulsed like a heartbeat. The women stared as a line of men entered the room. 

“This is how I lose the Presidency,” Laura muttered as she realized where this was going. Colonial society accepted a variety of socialators, but it wasn’t considered acceptable for presidents to be caught with them. Discreet mistresses who people pretended didn’t exist were preferred.

“Well we certainly aren’t letting Wally the Weasel become President,” Cain huffed, having taken a very long drink when the men came in. “I’m used to you now.”

…

Laura lay in her bed alone in her room of the bachelorette party’s suite on Cloud Nine. Before the onset of the night, Kara had persuaded her to stay over with the girls. She pleaded her case by asking for help getting ready the next morning, explaining that she wanted this wedding to be different than anything she’d experienced in the other timeline. “I clean up good, but could use some help,” she’d said and Laura had agreed.

Now she found herself alone in a large bed and constantly reaching out for the familiar warmth she’d gotten used to being next to her. Finding nothing, she chided her buzzed mind for being silly and rolled over. She ignored the feeling of the walls closing in around her. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop terrible images from the past flooding her brain.

_This is ridiculous. What is the matter with me?_

She tossed and turned, but the feeling refused to go away, instead intensifying with every passing minute.

“Do we steal the results of a democratic election?” an echoed voice from her memory asked. “It’s the wrong choice,” she answered, and in her dreams they agreed and chose the lesser of two evils. Laura angrily turned and fluffed her pillow. _Just leave me alone for one night,_ she told the shadows. She’d forced herself to drink, relax, and act like the part of embarrassing in-law. Hadn’t she earned a respite from worry and fear?

“It’s over, Laura.” Zarek’s words haunted her despite his death, reminding her of lived nightmares. “He’s gone. I’m here. You’re going to have to earn your place,” he whispered from another nightmare. Laura whimpered and pushed her head into the pillow, feeling phantom hands on her.

“Galactica’s been destroyed,” Dagon taunted. She swallowed hard and fought off the tears that prickled her eyes.

“The cancer’s back, I’m sorry, Madame President.”

“We’re so sorry, Ms. Roslin.”

The sheets felt cool against her trembling hand when she instinctively reached out once more. There was nothing there, and she grimaced, feeling foolish. It hadn’t even occurred to her that she hadn’t slept apart from her husband since Kobol. She’d kept vigil in sickbay when he was sick.

“My husband will find me,” she’d told Cavil.

“Who are you?”

Laura flung the blankets off her and scrambled over to the phone. Her body shoo, and it took her two tries to punch the number for the operator. In a breathy voice, she demanded to be put through to Admiral Adama.

“Adama,” he ground out. His sleepy voice sounded like gravel falling over rocks.

“Bill, it’s me.”

“Laura, what’s wrong?” His voice became instantly alert. Laura cringed at his reaction, wondering how to explain her bone-gripping fear at nothing.

“I… it’s stupid. I… I really needed to hear your voice.”

“Laura, it's alright,” he said. “I remember calling you all the time after time reset. You told me to call whenever I needed to hear you were real and safe. Even if I felt ridiculous.”

She remembered those calls and treasured each call that made her feel loved. She breathed and tried to focus on his voice but still eyed the shadows. She wanted to hear the sound of his snores instead of waiting for the next noise to startle her. Alarm was constantly boiling in her and she felt so tired.

“Keep talking?” Laura asked. She told herself that her husband loved her and she was allowed to rely on him like this. “How was Lee’s party?”

“It was fun. Stogies and ambrosia. I slipped a couple extra for us to share. We should be very proud of Liam. He’s the one who dared Tigh into reciting the poems.” As he spoke, Laura relaxed back against the pillows of her unfamiliar bed. She closed her eyes and listened.

“A highlight of the evening for sure. That was Liam’s idea?!”

”He definitely inherited your smarts. Although, I’m worried that he thinks he’s invincible. Zak snuck in a few minutes ago and passed out on the couch. I think he’s using Lee’s clothes as a pillow.”

“Lee’s clothes?”

“Don’t ask. How was Kara’s party.”

“Ellen and _Helena_ are still making out on the couch.”

“Who’s Helena?”

Laura giggled and waited for him to figure it out. She played with a frayed thread from the bedspread and imagined the look on Bill’s face when the realization hit him.

“Oh. Wow.” Laughing felt good, even if her nerves still tingled from feeling ready to run from the nightmares. “You know, I can send a pilot to bring you home,” he offered.

“Tempting. But I’m sure I look like a mess right now and Wally would love it if the press got a picture of that. This helped. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine now,” Laura said and wondered if that was the truth or not. A knock at her door made her jump, and she gripped the phone until she noticed it was just Kara popping her head in.

“Hey, Madame Prez. I… I heard you ‘cause we share a wall,” she shuffled back and forth on her feet for a moment, partly from how drunk she felt. “Whatever, I’ll just ask,” Kara pushed through the door, closed it and strode over to the other side of the bed. “Can I stay here tonight?” she asked, pointing to the untaken side.

“Okay,” Laura said, admittedly shocked. She turned her attention to the phone. On the other side of the comm, Bill chuckled and told her she’d be alright and to get some sleep. After exchanging endearments, Laura hung up and settled into the bed. Kara had already dove right in with the ease of someone used to sleeping in crowded quarters. The two women looked at each other.

“Do you think they know how much we need them?” Kara asked.

“Yeah. Remember they need us too.”

“Does it ever scare you?”

“In a way.”

Laura remembered talking with her sister like this the night before her wedding. There was a choking feeling in her throat as she listened to Kara. “Sometimes I wonder what Lee sees when he looks at me. I’ve messed us up before, and I wonder what I’d do if he stopped wanting to be together. I’m trying not to think about how I’ll disappoint Lee eventually. He knows me. I don’t know why it’s all coming back to me tonight.”

“Brides are allowed to overthink before their weddings.”

“Did you?”

“I married Bill within an hour of him asking. You can imagine why.”

“I’m being stupid,” Kara growled. Laura faced her secretly deeply insecure and damaged future daughter-in-law. “But I’m worried I’ll break him. And I keep thinking of that and just feel like crying.”

“Come here,” Laura offered, opening her arms to the woman. She held her as the damn holding Kara together broke and tears escaped. Drunk ugly crying the night before one’s wedding endured the apocalypse too. “We can’t be prepared for everything. But whatever does happen, don’t let him go. There will be good times and there will be some down times. He’ll disappoint you and you’ll disappoint him because that’s part of being a flawed human, but I think you know you’re meant to be together. Have faith in that, and trust him to love you.”

“Does that really work?”

“Yes.” Laura smiled, her own words bringing them both the comfort they needed to hear. “Now let's try and get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t write comedy but appreciate ya'll telling me to just go with it and have fun for a chapter (and yet I still had some angst with Laura). I've been down and needed the laughs.
> 
> <3 <3 <3 <3 To Claro, Zanderfrae, shipswillbethedeathofme, and Dr. Roslin. Dedicating this chapter and all its ridiculousness to you four. 
> 
> Tell me what you think?


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